


Scandal of the Town

by lost_spook



Category: Original Work
Genre: Attempted Murder, Community: hc_bingo, Community: runaway_tales, Community: unconventionalcourtship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Marriage of Convenience, Romance, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 21:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7987177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanks to one indiscretion, Edward Iveson's life and reputation is in ruins, until Julia Graves comes to his rescue with a proposal of marriage.  Edward can hardly turn her down, but what is it that Julia wants from him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for the Unconventional Courtship fest 2016, but as it turned out rather long and went off-piste from the original summary and was original fic, I eventually decided not to post it (even though the mod had kindly okayed it). However, it fit a Hurt/Comfort Bingo square perfectly ("fall from grace"), so I fished it out, edited it again, and finally posted it, only about three months late.
> 
> This is also an AU scenario for a Runaway Tales canon and written for the prompts Lemon-Lime Sorbet (8. role reversal) and Cookies & Cream (26. settle) & posted over at the comm.
> 
> With many thanks to Persiflage for the beta! (<3)

_February 1857_

It had been another terrible day, one of what now seemed destined to be an unbreakable run of terrible days. Edward Iveson kept his hat firmly on his head and the collar of his coat up as he walked along the street, angling his head down in the hope that no one else would recognise him or speak to him. How, he wondered, did one go from a fairly uneventful and dull existence to finding oneself at the centre of a scandal?

The note had arrived in the morning post a few days ago. Edward had been surprised but had seen no reason to be alarmed. It had been a long time since he had heard from Marie Brannon, but while he’d never been comfortable with their relationship – their short-lived affair – she had always been kind and he had no reason to suspect her of any ill intent. 

He should have thought to look more closely. Knowing Marie, she might even have embedded a warning in the note, but he had instead blithely gone to meet her at the inn, proving himself to be a naïve fool. She must have drugged him because so much of the evening was hazy in his mind and the rest a blank, but he’d made it easy for her, drinking more than was wise in his unease. He’d thought then, of course, that was all it had been, waking up the next morning in strange surroundings with a hangover. 

“Nothing happened,” was all Marie had said, when he’d dressed, and gone downstairs to find her. “You were _very_ drunk, that’s all. I didn’t want you here, you know! Go home, Edward.” 

He’d attempted an incoherent apology, but she’d pushed him out of the door. “Just leave now – and be more careful in the future.”

 

About a week after his encounter with Marie, an envelope had arrived, containing some shocking photographs that must have been taken during that night – and a blackmail note, demanding a small sum of money in exchange for the sender’s silence on the scandal. Perhaps it might have stopped there, but Edward decided to take the matter to the Metropolitan Police. 

He hated the mere idea of showing the appalling and humiliating images to anyone else, but the business had been well-organised and that, he believed, could only signify an established criminal ring. Edward was a minor civil servant in the Foreign Office – or he had been until the scandal broke – and while he supposed he might be of some small use to a blackmailer, he had very little influence and not much in the way of fortune. Such a practised snare must have been set to catch bigger game than he, and so he had marched to the station to sacrifice himself in the cause of battling crime and corruption.

However, by the time he had finished trying to explain his complaint to a disbelieving and leering desk sergeant, he wanted only to run away rather than do his duty, but since he had already given the policeman his address, there was no escape. He had, on being asked to show the sergeant the photographs, insisted on seeing a more senior officer, and eventually been ushered in to see an inspector, who had at least had the grace to try and hide his amusement and scepticism about how Edward had accidentally ended up in such scandalous photographs. He also, to Edward’s relief, immediately grasped his point about the perpetrators targeting other, more important victims.

The humiliation of recounting the tale had seemed as if it would never end. Explaining that he had no memory of the night but that, yes, he did know Mrs Brannon, and, yes, his association with her _had_ been of a intimate nature even if it had ended several years ago, before they even got onto the rest of it had him wishing he had never been naïve enough to think he could lay a charge like this in a detached manner. He had begun wishing he could die about five minutes in and wasn’t sure he’d stopped since.

He had also gone to see Lord Howe, who had once used his influence to help him find an appointment at the Foreign Office, and confessed as much of the situation as he dared. Lord Howe had been angry with him over it – for his folly, Edward supposed, but he also had been scathing about the idea of involving the clumsy officers of the Metropolitan Police. Edward had then offered his resignation to his superior at the Foreign Office, leaving afterwards feeling at least that life could at least not get any worse.

He had been wrong. On the next morning, the story appeared in the newspapers. He would have not thought himself especially newsworthy, but either it had been a quiet day in the metropolis or he was being too modest when it came to a story that involved indecent and compromising photographs of a servant of the government.

 

_April 1851_

_Edward had known it must mean bad news as soon as he returned to his rooms at Cambridge and found his uncle waiting there. Uncle Ted didn’t call without warning in term-time and even had he found himself passing, he would have greeted Edward with his usual easy smile, not this strained, serious look._

_It couldn’t be Mother, Edward thought. Father would have come if anything had happened to Mother. It must be Father. He looked to his uncle, waiting; hoping he would dispel his fears._

_“There’s no easy way to say this,” said Uncle Ted. “It’s your father. I’m afraid he –” He paused, evidently searching for words, and fell back on bluntness. “He’s been drowned,” he said._

_Edward didn’t know what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t that. Some illness, perhaps, he thought, not drowned. “How?” he asked, and wondered why he couldn’t yet seem to feel anything. His father was dead, and he could hardly seem to force the concept into his head._

_“Yes,” said Uncle Ted, almost talking to himself. “How – we don’t know, Ned. The Coroner ruled it an accident, but he’d had a bad reversal with some investments – that paper-making company –” He stopped again, watching Edward, as if hoping he wouldn’t need to continue. “I’m sure the Coroner knew what he was doing. But in the circumstances, people will talk and you must be prepared for that.”_

_Edward still couldn’t seem to make himself feel anything. Father had said there was some trouble, but he had assured Edward it was nothing very much – and even if it was, he said, then they would find a way to manage, that was all. “Are we – are we ruined?” he asked. It sounded overly melodramatic, saying it aloud. “Do I need to leave the university?”_

_“No, no,” said Uncle Ted. “We’ll see you through – be silly to do otherwise. As to the rest, it isn’t that bad. Perhaps you don’t know – both your grandfathers left a certain amount in trust to you. You won’t be thrown out on the streets.” He looked at Edward, the first of many such pitying looks to come, and said, “Well, you’d better go and pack. Your mother will want you.”_

_He realised, when he went to gather up some clothes and other necessities, that he felt almost angry with Uncle Ted: why come telling him this, when it couldn’t be true? He would go home, he thought, and Father would be there to explain and put everything right._

_The first reality of it hit him even as he thought that, sitting down on his bed heavily, doubling up as if in pain. Everything had changed. His father had thrown himself in the river and nothing would ever be wholly well again._

 

At least, thought Edward as he finally reached Charlcot Crescent and home, he could now hide in peace and scrape what was left of his self-respect from the floor as he tried to decide what to do next. However, he found he had one last problem to deal with: his daily help, Mrs Crosbie, was standing on the doorstep with her arms folded as she watched him make his way up the path.

“Mr Iveson,” she said, before he could open his mouth. “I’m sorry, but I can’t be coming round any more. It’s not that I believe any of the wicked lies they print in the newspapers, but Mr Crosbie won’t hear of it now. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find someone else.”

Edward nodded, not trusting himself to speak. It was another blow, but he had reached the point of finding each latest catastrophe almost ridiculous, as was the idea of himself as such a disreputable fellow that even respectable charladies couldn’t afford to be seen anywhere near him. Still, he sighed as he let himself inside the house, and Mrs Crosbie sailed on out of his life. He made his way up to the study and sat down in the upholstered chair, hiding his head in its side as he tried to shut out everything else. 

He couldn’t think of anything he could do, except for options too drastic to consider, like running away to America or the colonies, or worse. He gave up and decided to try getting drunk and forgetting everything until tomorrow, when at least some other lurid story should have seized the headlines, even if the rest of his troubles remained.

However, he had barely taken the first sip of his brandy, when there someone else started knocking at his door, and he gave a groan and put his hands to his head. Couldn’t people leave him alone? He had had quite enough of newspaper men and so-called friends, and people who just wanted to stare, and he was in no mood to be disturbed again now. He waited, hoping whoever it was would go away, but they didn’t, so he sighed and pulled himself up and marched back down the stairs with a bad grace. 

 

_July 1851_

_People had been kind. Edward wished sometimes they wouldn’t. There wasn’t anything they could do and he didn’t want to be pitied; he didn’t want to hear people talk about Father, not the way they did these days._

_But people_ had _been kind, including Harold Graves who had paid him to come and stay with the family for a month this summer and help tutor his son Christy. Edward had made some embarrassed protest at first, but Mr Graves had given him a dark, amused look and told him that if he could ready Christy for the University of London, he’d deserve every penny of it and that he’d think so too before he was done._

_By this point in the summer, Edward was inclined to agree. The Graves were family friends and while he was fond enough of Christy, trying to get him to pay attention to his studies was a Herculean labour and there were times when Edward would have preferred throwing the books at his head._

_They had nearly finished for the morning, Christy being due to go out in the afternoon, when Grace, the Graves’s maid came in with some lemonade and a plate of buns. At Christy’s look, she said, “It’s for Miss Julia.” She paused before continuing to straighten up and look around her. “Where is she?”_

_“Oh, she’s around,” said Christy, but Edward saw his grin and knew he’d been up to something._

_“What have you done?” Edward asked, as soon as Grace had gone._

_Christy laughed. “Oh, nothing. She was plaguing me earlier, so I shut her in the shed.” He patted the key in his breast pocket. “That ought to keep her quiet. I’ll go let her out presently, though, I promise.”_

_“Oh, for – heaven’s sake,” said Edward, losing patience and standing. He held out his hand for the key. “Finish your work; I’ll go and let the poor girl out. I don’t expect she’s as amused about it as you are.”_

_Christy pulled a face at him, Edward saw, but ignored him as he held back to pour out a glass of the lemonade to take with him. It was a sunny day, but while there was a pleasant breeze out in the garden, it must be stifling in the shed. Julia would be bound to be thirsty._

_He opened the shed door to find Julia Graves sitting on the wooden floor, leaning against some sacks, half-asleep. She gave a slight cry, and jumped up unsteadily on seeing him. He gave her his hand and helped her out into the garden. She was just fifteen, with long fair hair pulled back from her face with a ribbon, somewhere awkwardly in between a child and an adult – and currently, as red-faced as one might expect from having spent an hour or two in a stuffy garden shed in summer._

_“You should have called for someone,” he said, but as she began to protest that she had, he recalled the lemonade and passed it over, which, to his amusement, earned him a starry-eyed look in response. He wondered what sort of reception he might have earned if he’d also thought to bring a bun._

_She sat down on the low wall around the shrubbery and drank the lemonade. “Mother says,” she informed him, when she had leisure to speak again, “that girls don’t shout. Besides, Christy might be a beast, but he wouldn’t just leave me there.”_

_“No, of course not,” said Edward, although he couldn’t help thinking that Christy might well if he got distracted by something, especially the mood he was in this summer. “Still, even if the books of etiquette don’t cover it, I think when one has been locked in somewhere, calling for help and knocking on the door is allowed.”_

_She gave him a slight smile; her cheeks still scarlet. “I expect you’re right. Perhaps – perhaps I didn’t want – people to know how silly I’d been, falling for Christy’s stupid tricks.”_

_“I don’t think he likes all this studying in the summer,” he said, and offered her his hand again. “Come on, I’ll see you back to the house. There’s some more lemonade – and there are buns.”_

_He had managed to displease her now, she stood up, ignoring his hand as she walked alongside him up the garden path. “I’m not a child, you know, Mr Iveson!”_

 

Edward opened the front door to find a young lady there, well wrapped up against the weather, but still clearly recognisable.

“Good God!” he said. “Miss Graves!”

She raised her chin. “Please don’t be so discourteous as to keep me waiting out here, Mr Iveson. Besides, I think we’re more likely to be observed and gossiped about if we have a long conversation on the doorstep, don’t you?”

“A long conversation?” he said, letting her in, and shutting the door behind her, as she put down a bag on the floor and began pulling off her gloves and undoing the buttons on her coat. “Miss Graves, you cannot stay here, and we have nothing to discuss. Let me go and find a cab to take you home again.”

He moved to the door and she looked up sharply, putting out a hand to stop him. “Mr Iveson, you don’t suppose I should have come here alone at this hour if I didn’t have some very good reason, do you? I’m well aware that it’s a shockingly desperate course to take, but I had to speak to you.”

“Of course,” he said, but he was having trouble regrouping his scattered wits as to what could possibly have brought her to his door at this time of night. “Are you in some trouble? Have you been hurt?”

She turned, clearly expecting him to help her out of her coat, which he did; the polite gesture was too ingrained to ignore even when he was ostensibly trying to persuade her to leave. Underneath it, she was wearing a lilac-coloured silk evening dress and the reminder of how attractive he thought her did nothing to calm his disordered thoughts.

“No, no,” she said, almost in annoyance. “You can see I haven’t. But I _am_ in trouble, nearly as much so as you, and I believe together we can solve our difficulties.”

He held onto her coat. “Whatever are you suggesting?”

“Oh, dear, this _is_ difficult,” she said, looking up at him. “Please, may I come in and sit down? I shall try to explain as best I can, but you will understand that this is hardly something I make a habit of.”

He ushered her upstairs, still feeling a little dazed by her arrival and the way his quiet, ordered life seemed to have been irrevocably overturned. It seemed that he should simply expect surprises from now on. He also had to stifle vague feelings of guilt, since Julia’s intentions didn’t appear to be romantic, and he had to admit that he had only been avoiding the Graves family lately because of the way he’d found himself beginning to view Julia not merely as a family friend, as Christy Graves’s younger sister, but suddenly almost as a symbol of everything he wanted and couldn’t have. To have her here now was a breathtaking irony that he didn’t know how to comprehend.

He led her into the study, since that was the only room where he had a fire lit, and offered her the other chair.

“Now,” she said, as she sat, before she halted, looking up at him with a frown. “Oh, Mr Iveson, do please sit down! I can’t possibly explain with you towering over me.”

He obliged and said, “Well?”

“I – I read about you in the newspapers,” she said, colouring slightly as she spoke and adjusting the folds of her skirt. “My brother Christy showed me.”

Edward couldn’t be surprised, knowing Christy, but he was still annoyed at the mere idea. “Then I can only deplore his behaviour – as usual! It was not the way it must have sounded – and there was no need for you to have heard anything about such a – such a scandalous incident.”

“Oh, but it was fortunate that he did,” said Julia leaning forward. “Because I was in such trouble and I could see no easy way out – and now I realise that we can help each other if you will only agree.” She swallowed, evidently working herself up to the point. “You see, Mr Iveson, if you were to – to marry me, it would solve all your immediate difficulties. That’s what I’m here to offer, if you will.”

He started, only keeping himself from leaping out of the chair by catching hold of its arms. “Miss Graves!”

“I know it’s dreadfully shocking of me, but you must see how it would answer – and I mean only a – a marriage of convenience. It would not be such an unusual arrangement, and I believe you don’t _dis_ like me.”

“No, of course not,” he said, “but you simply can’t come here and expect me to accept such an offer. It would be a most unfair turn to serve you. You would bring everything to the match and I would bring nothing but scandal – this, and what happened to my father.”

She clasped her hands together on her lap, twisting her fingers around, her shoulders taut. “I thought you might object, which was why I came here now. You can hardly leave me to the gossip that will inevitably follow such a visit, can you?”

That was true, now that she pointed it out to him, but she was effectively demanding to marry him at pistol point. It was one thing to theoretically admire her from a distance, another to have her turn up and demand he marry her on the spot. Indeed, the only thing that kept him from losing his temper and demanding that she leave and face the consequences of her own actions was the obvious question begged by her statement. “So, what is your trouble?”

“I need to marry someone,” she said. “Someone who is not Lord Howe!”

He stared back at her, unable to help being shocked at the implications of her confession.

“Oh,” she said, watching his face. “Oh, I didn’t mean _that_. It’s only that Lord Howe wants to marry me and he won’t take no for an answer. If I am already married, however, even he cannot make me!”

Edward pressed his head back against the side of the chair, feeling an impending headache. “Miss Graves, how could Lord Howe compel you to marry him if you do not wish to? I cannot imagine your parents forcing you into such a distasteful marriage, and even if you were dragged to the altar you could refuse to go through with the ceremony, or have Christy object. _I_ would object if it prevented you making such outrageous suggestions.”

“Lord Howe tried to blackmail you this week,” she said. “You refused – and I am so glad, even if it angered him – but when he tried it with me, I could not be so bold. You see, Mr Iveson, when I was seventeen I had a silly, childish affair with a Captain Campbell. I thought he meant to marry me and I was young and – and very foolish, and I let myself fall into a compromising position. Nothing happened, you understand, but that was only thanks to Christy. I don’t know who can have told Lord Howe but there have been rumours flying about concerning me of late. Then he threatened to make the whole story public and ruin my chances if I did not agree to marry him – and he said if that was not enough, he should find a way to ruin my father and beggar the lot of us. I pleaded with him for time to consider my answer, but that was all the concession I could gain.”

Edward found it hard to imagine the rather cold Lord Howe in such a role, but it was clear it was something Julia found difficult to confide. Her manner was hesitant and she kept casting anxious glances at him as she spoke. He was also baffled as to why she also believed it must be Lord Howe who had tried to blackmail him. “Could you not have asked one of your other admirers to rescue you?” He felt the faint sensation of heat in his face, uncomfortably aware that he’d betrayed a burst of something like jealousy.

“Oh, no, Mr Iveson,” she said, with a sudden attempt at humour, “I’m quite desperate, I assure you!” Then she sighed. “Besides, I believe – that is, following the rumours, what ‘admirers’ I had thought I should be eager to marry anyone and had their eye solely on Father’s money. Christy and I have – well, I’m afraid that Christy tells them that Father has suffered a reversal in his fortune and it’s not at all flattering to watch them run away as fast as they may.” She looked up and gave him a small smile. “No, none of them would do, but you’re different. You’ve known my family for years. You might have need of the money, but you wouldn’t marry me only for that reason. Besides, a secret engagement between us is at least plausible. Anyone who cares to enquire will find that our families have been close – they won’t know how little you and I have seen each other.”

“Even so –”

“Well, as I said, now I _am_ here, are you going to let me be ruined or run back to marry Lord Howe – or will you marry me?”

“Miss Graves,” said Edward. “This is preposterous –”

“Is that a yes, Mr Iveson?”

He watched her, still trying to understand even half of it. She was right about her proposal being the solution to his problems, humiliating as it was to admit. Her father would no doubt find him some position in his company and he would make a settlement on Julia, so Edward no longer need worry about the consequences of resigning from his post. The marriage might raise a few eyebrows following the scandal, but to anyone who was more nearly concerned than the casual reader of newspapers, it would strongly suggest that the Graves family at least didn’t believe the stories about him. What he didn’t understand was her wish to go through with it, notwithstanding her claims about Lord Howe. 

“It seems I must consider it,” he said, not quite able to be gracious yet. “I don’t understand why Lord Howe wishes to marry you on such terms, however. Are you sure?”

Miss Graves paused before answering and gave him a dark look. “Mr Iveson, when a gentleman says to me that I must marry him or he will ruin me and my family, I can hardly be unsure of his meaning. I don’t know what his reasons are; he has not deigned to inform me. I suspect it rather has to do with my parents than me. As far as I can see, I matter very little to him. He assumes that I will agree and there – there we are.” She stopped, swallowing, and he could see she was close to tears, if only for a moment. “And I fear I can hardly do anything else if you don’t marry me in the morning.”

“In the morning!” said Edward, distracted from his growing sympathy towards her. Then he shook himself, seeing that her hand on her lap was trembling very slightly. He coughed, and stood. “Would you perhaps care for a brandy?”

She shook her head instantly, screwing up her nose a little. “Oh, no, thank you! I think it horrid.”

He had to put his hand to his mouth, trying to hide his amusement at her sudden regression to the schoolgirl from the self-possessed young woman who was prepared to make brazen proposals to gentlemen in their own homes late at night. “Sherry, then?” he tried. “Or tea?”

She nodded and, as he moved over to pour her a glass, he was aware of her watching him.

“Mr Iveson,” she said, a little breathlessly when he handed the sherry to her. “Mr Iveson – I will try and explain a little further, but first you must tell me the truth of what happened to you this week.”

Edward wanted nothing less. Bad enough that she had read the account in the papers, worse still that she was here, trying to ‘rescue’ him in this manner, let alone that he should have to sit there and recount the affair yet again. He clenched his fists, waiting for the urge to snap at her to pass.

“It’s not curiosity,” she said. “Please. I must know.”

He gave a forced smile and crossed to the fireplace, standing against the mantelpiece. “Yes. I quite see. You’re here, offering me everything. You need to know what it is you’re getting in return. Well, please, let me assure you that most of what has been printed is entirely untrue.”

“Oh, no,” she said, turning to face him. “I didn’t mean that! I knew that much before I came here. How could you think otherwise?”

Edward had to look away from her again. “I see. What did you read of the business?”

“Silly, obnoxious things,” she said. “But that you were – taken away by a Mrs Brannon and –” She faltered. “Well, I see how it was: it was all intended to put you in a situation where you could be blackmailed, because why should anyone else believe that it was all – all –”

Edward breathed out. He was, he thought, whatever he told himself, going to have to accept her proposal: she was right about his trouble, and what was more she was right about him not being prepared to ruin her if this visit got out – nor, if it really was true, could he let her be blackmailed into becoming the second Lady Howe. He forgot his embarrassment, crossing towards her, and crouching down beside her in the chair.

“Yes,” he said. “That was essentially how it was. The one thing that I did was to agree to meet Mrs Brannon, because she is – an old acquaintance.” He stopped, since he hardly wanted to explain that further.

Miss Graves gave a small smile. “That’s a polite way of saying that she’s someone you once – well, that you once –”

“Yes,” he said, to save them both any further embarrassment. “Some years ago, just after my engagement ended. But that was then – I had not seen her since.” Marie Brannon had taken pity on him, more than anything else. Which, he thought, with a flush of annoyance, was beginning to become an unwelcome theme with the women in his life. 

Miss Graves nodded. “May I ask where you met her?” she asked. “In the beginning, not the other day.”

“That has nothing to do with it,” he said, because, now that she mentioned it, it had occurred on one of the few times he’d been invited to stay with Lord Howe at his estate. Then he sighed, standing again, and confessed that fact. “But it’s impossible, you know. I was only there because Lord Howe was being kind after Father – well, after Father had died.”

Miss Graves lifted her head to look at him, and her eyes looked suddenly more grey than blue. “Was he?” she said. “But Lord Howe is never kind.”

That was true, Edward thought, feeling a sudden chill down his back. And on that particular weekend, he had a feeling that Marie had given him some warning not only about her husband, but about Lord Howe. It was too long ago, though, and he had not really been paying full attention. He thought about Lord Howe’s anger at his insisting on taking the matter to the police. There was some logic in it, but where did it lead? He had nothing such a man could want, nor was he in a position to do anything Lord Howe could not do himself or pay a dozen other people to do.

“I can see the possibility,” he told her. “But I don’t see any reason. And I am equally sure that whatever Lord Howe does _has_ reason.”

Miss Graves nodded. “My father is of the opinion that Lord Howe’s ruthless business methods were what ruined your father. Perhaps he believes you know something of that – or wishes to be sure you do not?”

“He always said that he was sorry for that,” said Edward. “That was why he invited me. I can never like him, but he’s given me cause to be grateful since.”

“Well, the only thing that does make sense is if he believes you possess information that your father also had,” she said. 

“That’s rather a large assumption to make,” he said. “Still, I suppose you could have a point.”

She looked away. “He also – said something to me that intimated as much.”

“What did he say?” asked Edward. “Miss Graves?”

She merely shook her head. “Father thinks so too, you know. And Lord Howe did say – well, he was rather foul about you and I don’t care to repeat it.”

Edward raised his eyebrows, but saw that it was no use pursuing that angle tonight. He would, he thought, with some trepidation, have as much time as he cared to try and winkle it out of her later – the rest of their lives.

“One thing,” he said. “I can hardly refuse your – your kind offer, but why in the morning, in heaven’s name? A hasty, secret marriage won’t necessarily restore our reputations.”

She twisted her hands together in her lap before she looked up again. “You’ll only disbelieve me again, but if we give anyone warning, Lord Howe will prevent it. He cannot, however, do very much once we are married. And since you agree, does it make any difference how soon it is?”

“Well, Miss Graves – Julia – there are matters to be arranged,” he said. “*If nothing else, I had always supposed that when I married, I would invite my mother to be present. I have an aunt and uncle and some cousins who may also feel slighted –”

She rose from the chair. “Well, I _am_ sorry, but it must be as soon as possible – Christy has purchased the license and arranged the matter with a register office, which I am sorry about, but it seemed best.”

“ _Has_ he indeed?” said Edward. Being ambushed by Julia was hard to take, but discovering that Christy was also behind this didn’t improve his temper.

Julia moved forward and caught at his arm. “Oh, please, don’t be angry with Christy! I know why you would think it was one of his schemes, but I’m afraid the fault is mine – only mine! I begged him to help, or I said, I should do it all myself and I _would_ go to see you regardless; he could hardly have me locked up. And he did see what I meant once I had explained.”

“Well,” said Edward. “I see. I shall marry you in the morning, then.”

She closed her eyes. “Yes. I know that this is quite dreadful of me, but I must insist. And, as I said, I mean only a marriage of convenience. We shall have a month’s trial and see how we go on – and in that time, we may also uncover whatever it is that Lord Howe wants from you.”

“I don’t think it would do either of us any good if I tried to return you at that point,” he said, wryly amused.

Julia gave a short laugh. “No. But people do make – other arrangements. Everything can be quite civilised, I hear.”

“Yes,” murmured Edward, finding it very difficult to imagine the two of them as such people. Indeed, he might consider this invasion an outrage, but he was also warily sure that at the end of a month’s trial period of marriage to Julia, the last thing he would want would be to return her. He coughed. “So, that agreed, what do we do now?”

She raised her chin. “Since I don’t wish you to change your mind, I decided I must stay. And if that means – well, I have put myself in this position,” she said, setting her face, “and I shall take the consequences.”

Edward looked at her, all but screwing her face up at the idea, and said, “No, Miss Graves. You needn’t worry. You proposed a month to see how matters go. That seems reasonable to me. I have a spare room and Mrs Crosbie keeps it ready. What will you do for, ah, your night things?”

“I brought a bag,” she reminded him, and then gave a smile. “If you would fetch it up for me, I shall retire.”

He nodded, and then caught hold of her hand, and kissed it. A month might, in her estimation, be enough time to find some non-existent evidence about Lord Howe (whom she seemed to have made out to be quite the monster) but he thought perhaps it could also be enough to at least start winning her over. He gave her directions to the spare room, but once she’d left, he found himself almost immediately wondering if had dreamt the whole business, and had to go downstairs to fetch her bag from the hallway to prove otherwise.

Maybe, he thought, almost light-headed at the idea, everything he’d kept telling himself since Father had died had been wrong. If he could truly marry someone like Julia Graves, then it must be. 

 

_November 1851_

_Edward made his way outside, wishing he’d never accepted Lord Howe’s invitation to stay at Ardale Hall. He would rather have left the older man severely alone after all that had happened, but Lord Howe seemed to want to try and make amends for his part in John Iveson’s death. To refuse would have been not only uncivil but to ignore the advantages Lord Howe was offering him. However, Edward found he disliked everything more than he had expected – including the rest of the guests. He felt awkward and stupidly young compared to the rest of them. He’d drunk more than he was used to, also. He hoped some air would help clear his head._

_Out of sight of everyone else, he sat down on the step and leant his head against the stone of the wall, feeling the loss of his father more sharply than he had for a while, and wishing he could leave in the morning, but there was still another day to go._

_He only wished there was someone else he felt comfortable with here, but the only person that he liked was Mrs Brannon, and that was part of the problem. She’d been kind to him yesterday evening, but he was also sure she’d been flirting with him. He’d returned the compliment, if not especially gracefully, but it had occurred to him today that she might be serious and that was more confusing than everything else._

_He wasn’t engaged any more – Caroline, his fiancée had finally broken off the betrothal after months of uncertainty – but he was hardly a man of the town and, in any case, Mrs Brannon was married, even if she didn’t seem to care for her husband. He wondered if he ought to still be in love with Caroline, but after she’d been so awkward and distant for all this time, he couldn’t pretend he was. She’d only waited so long because she hadn’t wanted to deal the blow so soon after his father’s death. There it came again, he thought, with a small, bitter quirk of his mouth: that pity, and from Caroline of all people. He closed his eyes, his head still against the wall._

_“It can’t be that bad, can it?” said Marie Brannon suddenly, from one side of him._

_Edward started violently and rose to his feet. “No, of course – I – I –” He found himself at a loss to explain._

_“Something’s wrong if you’re hiding out here in the cold,” she said, and gave a slight shiver. He pulled off his jacket as swiftly as he could and put it around her shoulders, a little dizzy at the close contact and the smile she gave him._

_“You can’t be as miserable as I am,” she said, without any pretence. “Why don’t we console each other?”_

_He should argue, he thought, but he didn’t. He put a hand to her face and failed again to find words._

_“Edward,” she said, moving nearer. “The thing that matters here is that I like you; the rest I’ll explain if you’ll come with me.”_

_“I should rejoin the others,” he said, but even he could hear how half-hearted he sounded._

_She slid her hand into his, her fingers entwining around his; closer to him still. “Never mind ‘should’, this once,” she said. “What do you want?”_

_Edward gave in and kissed her. It was different than with Caroline, he found: Marie kissed him in return and didn’t let go._

_Upstairs, in her room, she attempted to explain, as she’d promised, but he couldn’t say that he was listening as much as he should have, too distracted by her, by this situation._

_“John’s a devil,” she said, referring to her husband. “I can’t explain the things he gets into. And sometimes he uses me for his schemes when it suits him. Not like this, though, I promise. This is different. Lord Howe brought me into this, I’m sure.”_

_“He invited you, you mean.”_

_She tightened her hold on the lapels of his jacket and forced him to look at him. “Will you listen? John’s used me before to set up gentleman so that he can get money out of them, but this is another thing entirely. I don’t have much choice – John would half kill me if I did anything else, but it will all be well, I promise. Better this way than let Lord Howe find another, less pleasant method of achieving his aims.”_

_Edward frowned. “I don’t understand. But if someone’s forcing you to –”_

_“No, they’re not. Forcing me to at least try and get you in here; that’s all we need, after all. But I’d say that man wants some sort of hold over you, and that’s worrying. Any idea why?”_

_“You must be mistaken,” Edward said, warmth in his cheeks. “He’s the merest acquaintance – he’s been very kind in inviting me.”_

_Marie watched him. “Well, keep it that way, and play along for the moment.”_

_“But –”_

_“Don’t worry. It’s what you want, and, like I said: I like you and that’s what’s important here and now. Make your mistakes,” she added, with an amused glint her dark eyes. “Just be sure not to marry them like I did.”_

 

Between memories of all the embarrassments of the previous few days and worrying over whether or not he should have agreed to Julia’s proposal, Edward did not have a peaceful night. He also, as he rose, washed and dressed, realised that he was not entirely prepared for a guest.

He knocked on her door, preparing to apologise for any inadequacies in his domestic arrangements. She poked her head out in response, but before he could speak, she said, “Oh, Mr Iveson – Edward, I suppose I should say – will you lace me up? I am otherwise quite decent, you need not fear.”

“It’s a little late to worry about the proprieties,” he said, with a sudden smile, stepping inside. She was, indeed, well-covered, her dress pulled on over her petticoats if not yet over her arms. “I trust you’re not superstitious,” he said, as he obliged, aiming to seem as unconcerned as possible. “I’m fairly certain this is bad luck.”

“Good,” she said, with a glance down, before pulling on her dress. She smiled, catching his puzzled look as she raised her head again. “No, not the bad luck – I thought you might have changed your mind in the night.”

Edward shook his head. “We can’t assume your visit here will go unnoticed. I hope very much so, but I won’t draw back now. I gave my word.”

Julia nodded, waiting for him to fasten up the buttons at the back.

“I’m sorry,” he added, because while everything about this was her fault, he still felt as if he should have been able to provide her with a better start to the day. “With Mrs Crosbie gone, I’m afraid breakfast may be a rather patchy affair. It’s not promising to be much of a wedding day for you.”

Julia turned around with a smile. “Don’t worry, Mr Iveson,” she said, putting a hand to his arm. “I’m not merely ornamental, I assure you. If she has only left us a few supplies, I can manage quite well.”

She walked past him to the door and then, when he remained standing there, looked back at him. “Come – you will have to direct me to the kitchen.”

“Of course,” he said, irritated again for no real reason – aside from the fact that she was forcing him into a marriage that would most likely save him from ruin and promising to cook him breakfast. Entirely unreasonable of her, he thought, his errant sense of humour resurfacing. 

 

_July 1851_

_Edward was sitting in the dining room, making notes for tomorrow’s session with Christy before tidying the books away, when he became aware of Harold Graves speaking in the other room, and then his brother, Lionel Graves, who was paying him a brief call._

_“You never have given enough consideration to the family’s standing,” Lionel said, his bark of a voice far more audible through the adjoining door than Harold’s. “Well, no point in going over old scores now, but what’s this I hear about you having Iveson’s son here? You know what that man did, don’t you?”_

_Edward, who had been in the act of hastily closing everything up and leaving so as not to eavesdrop, froze, his hands on the book covers. It wasn’t new; it shouldn’t shock him, but somehow, coming out of the blue like that and in this house where he had been made so welcome, he felt quite sick for a moment._

_“Mr Iveson,” said Julia Graves, suddenly, from the other side of him. She moved nearer to him as he turned with a start, giving him a slight, almost shy smile. She leant further forward towards the desk, as if about to impart a secret. “I shouldn’t say this, of course – but my uncle is a beast and we all hate him, you know.”_

_He had to laugh, and finished closing the papers up into a book. “I wasn’t listening,” he said, straightening up again. Then he gave a shrug. “Not intentionally, I mean.”_

_Julia took his arm. “And he has an awful loud voice,” she added in a whisper. “He usually complains about Mother or Christy, or both. Mr Iveson, if you’ve finished your work, perhaps you could come outside with me? Mr Keynes has some plants for my corner of the garden and I just can’t decide which ones I should choose. Maybe you can advise me?”_

_Edward knew little enough about gardening, but he recognised a generously given means of escape when it was offered. If he was outside with Julia, there would be no danger of encountering Lionel Graves again as he left. So he tucked the papers safely away in a drawer and gave her a nod and a smile. “I shall try my very best, Miss Graves.”_

 

Edward delivered Julia back to her father and went on to the register office where Christy was waiting for him. He wasn’t sure what to say to him as they waited for Julia and Mr Graves to rejoin them, and so fidgeted instead; adjusting his jacket and waistcoat and shifting from one foot to the other.

“Not being romantic, are you, Ned?” asked Christy. “You know Julia is a decent match for you. More than decent – she’ll have her share of Father’s money, and that business with Campbell never went anywhere.”

Edward glared at him. “Yes, I understand, and, yes, I’m grateful for your assistance, but I would have liked – well, at the very least _not_ this rushed affair!”

“I suppose Julia turning up last night put your back up,” said Christy. “I told her to let me ask you, but she didn’t seem to think I’d accomplish much. But, you know, it’s not the sort of thing she does as a rule. She’s perfectly well-behaved – but a jolly sort, if I do say so myself.”

Edward put a hand to his head, unable to bite back an unwilling laugh. “Yes, I am sure she is. I simply can’t help feeling that it’s unprincipled of me to accept.”

“And let her ruin herself coming to see you last night?” said Christy. “I wouldn’t have thought it of you.”

“That would be her own fault!” said Edward. “And where is she now? I thought there was a hurry.”

Christy coughed. “One thing. I should ask before it’s too late – I don’t suppose there’s any truth in those rumours?”

“I would have thought it was already too late,” said Edward. “And _no_. I promise you that until this week my life has been entirely unexceptionable.”

Christy raised an eyebrow. “Well, then a change was overdue!”

Edward gave him a glare that didn’t subdue the other in the least. There was, he thought, a distinct resemblance between brother and sister.

“It’s the biggest joke I ever heard,” said Christy. “You, the scandal of the town and when you come down to it, you’re a damned prig. A nice one, mind, but still.”

Edward rubbed his forehead, biting his tongue not to utter a childish denial; that he wasn’t a prig, thank you. “It hasn’t been that amusing for me, I can assure you. If this hadn’t happened, I would never be taking advantage of your sister in this way.”

“Hey,” said Christy, catching at his arm. “You don’t mean that, do you? We’re taking advantage of you if anyone is – and at least we can give you something in return. Father’s pleased it’s you. He’s felt bad for years that he didn’t do anything much to help when your father went under. Well, we weren’t doing so well ourselves back then. And Julia likes you, you know. Thought you quite the hero once.”

Edward turned. “She couldn’t possibly have.”

“Not now, perhaps,” said Christy with a grin. “That summer you were with us, tutoring me. She was always following us about, if I didn’t stop her. That was for you, not me, I can tell you.”

“I don’t think that is a basis for marriage, Christy.”

“This isn’t an ideal situation,” said Christy, “but Lord Howe seems to be serious, and while I think I’d stop the ceremony rather than let him have Julia, he’s not a man to antagonise. When he says he’d ruin us, I think he’s in earnest.”

“Perhaps he will still attempt it?”

Christy shrugged. “Even if so, at least now he can’t use Julia. You needn’t worry about your half of the bargain – you keep Julia safe and that will be enough. There isn’t someone else, is there, Ned? That, of course, would be another matter.”

“No,” he said. “And I shall try, I promise. It’s this arrangement I dislike – not Julia.”


	2. Part Two

_April 1855_

_Julia Graves had quite grown up since he’d last seen her, on the surface at least, Edward thought as he led her from the dance floor. She had, nevertheless, spent much of their dance with a frown of concentration on her face that recalled the younger Julia to mind, regardless of the charming green silk gown or her carefully styled hair, worn up now._

_“Is something wrong?” he asked her, somewhere between amused and concerned as he glanced down at her._

_She started, looking up. “Oh, no! Nothing.”_

_“You seemed preoccupied,” he said. “I wondered, or whether it was in some way me.”_

_She still had her hand on his arm as she laughed, turning her face towards him, trying to hide it from the rest of the room. “Oh, no, not at all, Mr Iveson! I was only keeping my mind on the steps.”_

_“Sometimes it’s easier if you don’t,” he said._

_She raised an eyebrow. “I hardly think you would have liked it if I had tripped over you and made a scene in the middle of a ballroom – even a relatively small occasion such as this.”_

_He ignored that uncomfortably sharp observation on his character and instead went dutifully in search of a drink. When he returned, handing her the glass, he caught sight of his former fiancée Caroline and her husband at the other side of the room, and hastily tried to edge behind a nearby curtain._

_“Mr Iveson, are you hiding?” asked Julia, having to lower her glass before she laughed again._

_“No – merely being tactful.”_

_“It looks very much like hiding,” she said, still having trouble fighting rising amusement._

_Edward offered her his arm again and escorted her into the next room. “That is the lady I was once engaged to. I’d prefer not to speak to her – it always seems to upset her.”_

_“Isn’t that – well – a little vain?” she queried._

_He moved to let someone else pass beside him in the crush. “No, no, not like that, Miss Graves. She is very happy with Mr Sheldon – she merely seems to feel guilty that I am not married to someone else – that perhaps she ruined my life, which is nonsense. I am quite content.”_

_“Are you?” said Julia suddenly, with youthful bluntness. “Truly?”_

_He frowned down at her. He was damned if he was going to be pitied by anyone else, and besides, he was reasonably content and if anyone had ruined his life, certainly it had not been Caroline. He lied: “Yes,” he said._

 

Edward eyed Harold Graves’s approach after the ceremony with trepidation, not knowing what he should say to his new bride’s father in such circumstances. He began stammering out an incoherent apology, before Mr Graves cut him off.

“I couldn’t do much about Howe myself,” he said, “so, believe me, I’m far happier to see Julia wed to you.”

Edward shifted his position, still feeling awkward. “But like this – I wish it could have been otherwise.” Then his curiosity got the better of him and he had to ask, “Why is Lord Howe so very determined to marry Julia? Of course,” he added hastily, “I can easily imagine why anyone should be – but Lord Howe of all people –”

“I know what you mean,” said Mr Graves. “It’s hard to say, but I expect it had more to do with me – and with Hanne. He wanted someone to take care of those unfortunate daughters of his and Julia would do as well as anyone, more so since she likes them and they her. And he gets a small measure of revenge. He’s got a vindictive streak – and I don’t think it had occurred to him that Julia might be more trouble than she’s worth. How that might have played out doesn’t bear thinking about.” He angled his face away from Edward, avoiding his gaze. “I wouldn’t have given in if it was only myself, but to have Hanne facing debt, shame, and ruin – I couldn’t.” He shook his head. “This is a far better way out for us.”

Edward wasn’t entirely sure he understood everything, but Mr Graves didn’t seem inclined to say more about whatever lay between him, his wife and Lord Howe in the past, so he chose to be tactful and dropped the subject. “I see, sir.”

“He likes to have control,” Mr Graves added, with a sharp look at Edward. “Always – his companies, his household – people. It’s what he’s after with you, you know. You may not accept that yet, but you should.”

Edward tried to think how to respond in a way that wouldn’t offend his new father-in-law. “I merely find it hard to understand what he could want from me.”

“Do you?” said Harold Graves, giving him another glance, his brows furrowing. “Well, not even someone like Lord Howe can carry off a guilty conscience without it showing now and then. I’m fairly sure the way he ruined your father wasn’t entirely legal, nor was it merely a matter of business. I fancy he imagines you must also know that or suspect it. In your place, he would.”

It sounded less improbable put that way, but Edward still found such melodramatics hard to swallow.

“You find anything,” said Mr Graves, “any of your father’s papers you still have, you bring it to me and I’ll look through it for you. I’ll write you down some names to look out for – one or two companies and business agents that wouldn’t be so obvious to spot if you didn’t know.”

Edward deemed it polite to smile and shake his hand when it was offered. “Thank you, sir,” he said.

 

Edward had decided they should travel immediately down to Kent and stay with his mother, ensuring that she knew of the marriage before anyone else told her and escaping any other casual enquiries from friends and acquaintances. He had told Julia that if she cared to follow up on this business with Lord Howe, his mother had what was left of Father’s papers and they could go through them, which she seemed to feel was urgent. 

He had sent a hasty letter first thing that morning to warn his mother of their imminent arrival, but he and Julia were likely to arrive ahead of it, he knew. Still, Mother would cope with their unexpected visit, he knew. She would, he suspected, not even find his sudden marriage too odd – or she would be unlikely to let anyone see that if she did. Of course, the fact that he had married her friend’s daughter rather than a stranger would help. 

 

Edward’s mother, Elizabeth Iveson, rose as Edward and Julia were ushered into the drawing room while Julia’s maid Sarah took her cases upstairs. She greeted them with a smile, despite being taken aback at Julia’s presence.

“Ned,” she said, “why didn’t you warn me you were coming? And Julia, too – what an unexpected pleasure! It’s been far too long, my dear.”

Julia, far from being the forward young lady of last night, now only nodded, turning pink as she glanced up at Edward.

“Mother,” he said, taking Mrs Iveson’s arm and guiding her away from Julia. “I’m sorry – I did send a letter, but not in good time. And I’m afraid there’s rather more to it than a casual visit. Have you heard –?” He hesitated. “Have you heard any news about me?”

She nodded. “Well, yes, but I thought it hardly the topic to raise in front of Miss Graves. I take it – it is untrue?”

“Yes. And trust me,” said Edward, “Julia knows. Besides she isn’t Miss Graves any longer – that’s rather the point.”

She caught at his hand. “Edward,” she said. “What have you done?”

 

Once the explanations were over the day had improved considerably. Mrs Iveson had been more than welcoming to Julia, despite the oddity of the arrangement, and she let Edward go into the library to find the boxes of his father’s old papers, ready to delve into in the morning, while supper had been an enjoyable meal. They had then played card games, only interrupted by Edward having to go and investigate an odd noise that his mother’s cook had heard. The only thing he had found out of place round the back of the house, however, was Julia, who had for some reason insisted on following him out there.

Edward had almost forgotten the strangeness of things until it was time to retire. His mother had made two rooms ready for them and he had expected Julia to use the other, but somewhat to his bemusement, she arrived in his.

“Julia,” he said, as she tried to move the bolster from under the pillows. “I don’t see why you are complicating a perfectly simple arrangement.”

She stopped and looked up. “Because I can’t have Lord Howe knowing we didn’t consummate the marriage. That would defeat the object. And, see, I shall put the bolster down the middle –”

It had been a long day and he hadn’t slept well last night, largely thanks to her. Edward found himself rapidly losing his temper. “Julia,” he said again. “I agreed to a marriage of convenience, not a farce. Leave that thing where it is! I don’t understand how you think Lord Howe might hear of anything we do here, but if you must remain, then I promise you that I won’t suddenly ravish you in the middle of the night – with or without the aid of a bolster!”

Julia ceased tugging at the long pillow and climbed into bed, meekly. “I see,” she said. “Yes, do forgive me.”

He realised only belatedly as his annoyance faded back into puzzlement that he had ruined any chance of suggesting that the even simpler solution would be to consummate the marriage. It wasn’t as if, he owned at least to himself in the darkness, he hadn’t thought of it. There was no point dwelling on such thoughts now, however. He only wished he had refrained from snapping and spoiling even the slightest chance of such a thing.

It was not much of a wedding night, he thought, lying down himself and facing away from Julia – as if he could forget she was there – just as it had not been much of a wedding day. That was not truly his fault, but he felt guilty anyhow and turned, saying in a low tone, “Julia?” 

She gave no reply, and he sighed and lay back down. She couldn’t possibly be asleep yet, but if she was pretending to be, that was answer enough.

 

_March 1856_

_Harold Graves held an annual business dinner, to which he always made a point of inviting Edward in his father’s honour. Edward appreciated the kindness intended in the gesture, but there was no denying the evenings tended to be tedious. On the previous year, he had been unable to attend, but this time he had no such excuse and must don his evening wear and prepare himself to be polite to long-winded and elderly businessmen._

_He had just escaped the clutches of Sir Barnaby Hale, one of the worst of the bunch, when he spotted Julia Graves being cornered by Mr Archibald Evans, who was every bit as dull. She was here in her mother’s place as Hanne was unwell. He thought again as he looked at her now, that she seemed a great deal more grown up this time, more than she should be, with something of her usual liveliness absent – although perhaps that was merely the effects of too close a conversation with Mr Evans. He straightened himself with an inward smile at the prospect, and went to the rescue, cutting in with the excuse of being of an old family acquaintance and extracting her._

_“Mr Iveson,” she said, her arm through his as they moved away from the dreaded Mr Evans, “You were quite rude to the poor man.”_

_He glanced down at her. “Well, I can always return you, if you wish – if you’d rather finish your conversation. Besides, my manners were impeccable. What can you mean?”_

_“I don’t think we should ever have finished that conversation,” said Julia. “Oh, dear. I suppose I should thank you.”_

_Edward let his gaze stray over towards some of the other guests. While a fair few of the gentlemen had brought their wives, Julia was by far the youngest and prettiest woman in the room and he couldn’t help but note in amusement that he had clearly earned himself some jealous looks, not a situation he was much used to. “No need, Miss Graves. I think I’ve just made myself the envy of the room.”_

_“Is that flattery?” she asked, with a laugh. “Or am I merely being used?”_

_He gave a slight frown. She might only be in jest, but he found himself uncomfortable with either of those notions. “Neither.”_

_“No,” she said, and stared into the middle distance before turning back to him with a polite smile. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you – I hope you’ve been well.”_

_Edward nodded. “Quite well, thank you. And you – are you well?” He asked it more earnestly than was conventional. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that something must be wrong with her. Perhaps, he thought, it was only natural concern for her mother, and he was being foolish._

_“How could I be otherwise?” she said, but the light seemed to have faded from her eyes._

_“What of your mother? She isn’t very ill, I trust?”_

_She gave him a startled glance, and then said, “Oh, no. It was only a slight chill. She’s recovering very well.”_

_“I’m sorry. I wondered, since she wasn’t here,” said Edward. “As you say, it’s been a while since I’ve seen any of you – even Christy. He is endeavouring to keep out of trouble, I hope?”_

_Julia sighed. “Oh, yes. Most of the time. He merely – doesn’t care for the business the way Father does. I think he is far more like Mother than people realise – and Father won’t always make allowances.”_

_He reached for her hand again, discreetly. “Miss Graves,” he said, “you know, if you’re ever in difficulty, you can always come to me. Your family have always been very good to me and I would be happy to repay that kindness if I ever could.” It wasn’t something he had planned to say, and he felt the warmth flare in his face at his impulse and what she might make of it. It was only, he thought, because he was a family friend – naturally, he wanted to help, just as he might if she were his cousin Amy. If it also crossed his mind, fleetingly, in a most un-cousin like way, that he would have liked to kiss her, that was only natural, too. She was very pretty; he had always thought so._

_“But I’ve told you that nothing is wrong,” she said, giving him a puzzled look. “Nevertheless, it’s kind of you, Mr Iveson. I won’t forget. We were very happy to help, you know – Mother, Father, all of us. We would do so again if there was ever need.”_

_He merely nodded, not wanting to speak of that time with her, so he merely said that he supposed he shouldn’t monopolise her attention, or people would talk, and when she agreed, delivered her back to her father._

 

When Edward awoke in the morning, he was alone, Julia having already risen. When he arrived downstairs and found her at breakfast, she made no mention of the previous night and instead became irritatingly brisk and purposeful on the subject of going through his father’s papers.

“We shouldn’t waste any time,” she said, and seemed to expect him to agree.

He didn’t argue. If they fished out any records relating to the companies in question and he carried them back to her father, it would at least keep her happy, and he supposed it was always possible that they might find something useful, although away from London, the idea of Lord Howe as a lurking threat seemed even more unlikely.

They spent the rest of the morning going through the first couple of boxes in the study, and Edward thought that if anyone was observing them, they would certainly think that strange behaviour for a pair of newly-weds. That didn’t seem to occur to Julia, he noted rather wistfully, in between searching through old ledgers. 

They had to stop for the afternoon, but not for the chance to go out for a walk some other more pleasant use of their time – the rest of Edward’s relatives appeared to be acquainted with or reacquainted with Julia, and to congratulate them. 

On retiring for the night, he found Julia again in his room – having tucked herself up in the bed reading while he had been downstairs having a word with his mother. He glared at her.

“I thought it best,” said Julia, sounding defensive, hunching back against the pillows and tightening her hold on the book.

He raised an eyebrow as he sat down. “Oh?”

“Yes,” she said, but seemed at a loss to explain her reasons. Then she bit her lip and said, “I suppose, since I’m here, it’s only fair that I – well –”

“Good God,” said Edward in alarm, seeing that martyr’s expression on her face again and his stomach turned over. “Julia, please! Farce is bad enough, but I cannot face tragedy at bedtime, thank you.”

She coloured. “I only meant to be fair.”

“I don’t see why you need to complicate matters by being here at all,” said Edward. “Nevertheless, if you must, you must, I suppose, although I hope that tomorrow you can be more reasonable.”

 

Later, being woken by movement, he saw her sitting up in the gloom, almost as if keeping guard. He grumbled to himself, closing his eyes again, but that idea sparked off an unwelcome train of thought, one that he couldn’t seem to stop once he had started. Given what a monster Julia seemed to think Lord Howe; given all the things she had told him, and her belief in Lord Howe as his enemy –

He sat up, startling her, and lit a candle. He would need to see her face, he thought.

“Julia,” he said, turning around to face her. “You didn’t by any chance marry me because you thought it would save my life, did you?”

She turned her head, and then glanced down at the bedcovers, twisting her fingers in the edge of the sheet.

“And now – are you keeping watch?”

Julia looked up again. “You didn’t seem to believe me about Lord Howe. And, yes, yes, I did. Although only in part – all the other reasons are true, or we wouldn’t be here.”

“You thought Lord Howe might kill me – for some unknown reason – and so forced me to marry you? And now – now you think I cannot survive the night without your aid?”

Julia let go of the sheet. “No! Or, I suppose, yes, but not as you make it sound! I realise perhaps the latter was foolish of me, but you seem unable to take the threat seriously.”

“But you’ve married me,” he said, and he could feel his anger growing and made no move to stop it. “Surely I’m safe now? I see your point, of course. Naturally, should Lord Howe have such murderous intent, what better time than the other day in my despair? He could have arranged to meet me and pushed me in the river after my father. Who would have disbelieved it?”

Julia had grown angry herself now, enough to climb out of bed and glare back down at him. “Well, quite!” she said. “It seemed insensitive to tell you, but that is precisely what he said to me! Oh, maybe not the river – and maybe not in so many words –”

“Julia –”

“The evening I came to your house,” she said, “Christy went to speak to Lord Howe about my marriage to him, to keep him busy until as late an hour as possible – just to be sure.”

He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t have her pity him. “I don’t believe you can be in your right mind,” he said, his voice unsteady in his anger, and found he was out of the bed and standing also, without even recalling doing so. “Perhaps I can believe you about Lord Howe, but what difference will it make if you are here or not? If a suicide or an accident is suddenly less likely now that I am not ruined but happily married, then you can stay in the guest room prepared for you and leave me in peace!”

“Not now,” she said, lowering her voice. “Edward! You’ll wake everyone!”

He shook his head, catching hold of her by the shoulders and pushing her to the door. “And,” he added, “you’ll find that I am still alive in the morning, with or without your help!”

“Edward!” she said in protest. “I’m sure it must sound foolish – perhaps some of it is – but you don’t understand –”

He opened the door and pulled her out onto the landing. “No,” he said, “I don’t! Now, go to your own room and stay there!”

“Oh, you need not worry – I shall!” said Julia, in a hissed undertone, sweeping in through the opposite doorway, as far as she could in a nightgown.

As the door shut behind her, Edward heard another open further down the landing, and his mother emerged.

“Ned,” she said in a warning tone.

He turned, before he realised that he could explain nothing. “My apologies, Mother,” he said, and disappeared back into his room to lie down and fume in solitude.

 

He was still feeling angry in the morning, although in part perhaps because he didn’t know what would be left once his temper subsided. Nevertheless, he knew he’d behaved badly last night and on finding Julia at the breakfast table, he begged her forgiveness, if a little stiffly.

“I shall think about it,” said Julia, pausing in the act of buttering some toast. “In time, I may. When I help you with the documents this morning, however, you need not expect me to talk to you – I’m sure you will be relieved to hear.”

Edward surveyed his kedgeree with sudden and unjustified misgivings, pushing it about with a fork. “Thank you,” he said. “However, I am sure I can continue without your assistance. Indeed, as you see, I am still alive this morning, despite your absence.”

“I was merely trying to be watchful,” she said. “Better to be too cautious than to regret not being so later –”

He felt his temper mount again. “And, what, pray were you planning to do to any assailant?”

“I told you that I meant to be watchful,” she said, colour in her cheeks, and she all but threw down what was left of her toast onto the plate. “Which hardly needs explaining – and, besides, you need not mock me. One can always find _something_ to do if one puts one’s mind to it. I daresay I could have used the poker, or the warming pan – something!”

Edward glanced over at her and seeing the determined set of her mouth and brows, could picture it only too well, and had to put a hand up to his mouth to hide his amusement, his anger fading.

“Oh, yes, laugh!” she said, standing. “First you humiliate me in front of the whole household and now you think it funny!”

He also stood, heedless of the tablecloth and the breakfast dishes. “That wasn’t my intention. Julia, please – I behaved inexcusably last night, but I –” He stopped, unable to say that he felt he had been made a fool of again.

“Yes, so you told me,” she said, turning back as she reached the door. Despite wishing he could somehow wind back the hands of the clock and undo his ungracious behaviour, he couldn’t help admiring her sense of the dramatic. She raised her chin as he looked at her. “And you may be happy again – I am entirely cured of wanting to see you remain alive!”

With that, she made her exit.

 

The work of going through the various documents and ledgers in the study seemed far less interesting than it had on the previous day. Time dragged and he found himself intermittently cursing Julia for setting him off on this tiresome quest, and then, at that thought, cursing himself yet again for doing his very best to drive her away. A month’s trial, he thought, and she would no doubt run away from him at the end of it.

“Ned,” said his mother at the door, breaking into his thoughts. “May I speak to you?”

He nodded and then looked down at the papers on the desk, feeling the heat of shame in his face. He couldn’t imagine what she must have thought last night. “Mother,” he said, “I know. I’ve already apologised to Julia this morning. I was angry – over something quite foolish and I should never have caused such a fuss. Please, don’t imagine that any of it was Julia’s fault.”

“Well, I am glad to know that you _have_ apologised,” she said. Then she cast a sharp glance at him. “She said much the same thing, you know – that it was chiefly her fault.”

Edward shook his head, although, really, he thought, Julia had been more than a little irrational. Nothing, however, that justified him making a scene in the hallway in the middle of the night. He experienced another wave of embarrassment at the memory.

“No, no,” said his mother with a short laugh. “I would much rather not hear any more about it. What concerns me, Edward, is that you told me yesterday that your marriage was a matter of convenience.”

“And so it is. As you see, we can’t even manage to get along quite yet.”

She shook her head. “All I can say is that I can’t remember the last time I saw you so angry. Are you sure your feelings are not engaged?”

Edward looked up, preparing to lie in self-defence, before he stopped, wondering why on earth he should. He leant his head back down on his hand. “No,” he said, carefully. “The reverse, it seems.”

“Good,” she said. “As long as you are aware of the fact. I understand from what she said, that it was her proposition, so I can see why you might expect that also to be the case with her, but you must be patient. Be kind, Ned.”

He played with the edge of the paper with his fingers, embarrassed again, wanting to explain that _that_ was not the issue, and then entirely sure that was the last conversation he wished to attempt to have with his mother, so he merely nodded. It was not as if she was wrong in her advice at least. After last night, he would have to be very patient and kind if he wanted to make amends.

 

_November 1856_

_Edward hadn’t been invited to the Graves’s house in less formal circumstances for a long while and he found himself unexpectedly glad to be there. It seemed tonight to be everything that his house was not: light, and warm and filled with people it was easy to be comfortable with._

_There was no arranged entertainment, no dancing, only the family, playing cards and nonsensical paper games, but everybody took everything in good part and he laughed more here over nothing than he had anywhere else for months. Where the games called for partners or teams, he made sure he was on Julia’s, if he could, and they sat there, putting their heads together over the parlour games._

_He didn’t even try to deny to himself why that was, not this time. She was, he thought, everything one could want, and it was only natural that he should admire her – as no doubt did at least half a dozen others. It wouldn’t matter if he kept close to her for one evening; it wasn’t the sort of affair where there was anyone to gossip about his behaviour and she would hardly think very much of it: he was only Christy’s friend to her. She liked him, but in no other way, and perhaps even saw him as a little ridiculous._

_It wasn’t important. It was one evening and he would take care not to come again; he wouldn’t encourage a hopeless passion in himself and he had too little to offer to court her seriously. Surely, though, no God could forbid him one evening of such simple pleasures?_

_“Mr Iveson,” said Julia, her cards in her hand and a slight frown on her face at his sudden abstraction. “It’s your turn, you know.”_

 

Beyond dinner, which they both spent being painfully polite to each other and to his mother, Edward hardly saw Julia again until the next morning when, halfway reading through a volume of company minutes, she entered.

“I have nothing else to do,” she said, with a small, wry smile. “I thought I should at least offer to come and help you.”

He rose and pulled out a chair for her. “And I won’t be so ungracious as to refuse your assistance. This is a tiresome, slow business with only one pair of hands.”

He thought she smiled again, but when he looked, she was already sorting through the next box, looking for the most likely sources to pass to him.

“Indeed,” Edward added, “I think I may even have found something.”

That caught her attention, and she moved across to him. “What is it?”

“Well, I’m not sure,” said Edward, “but I’ve marked it out.” He pulled a previous ledger back over, and found the passages again. “Here – and here. Caulfield & Trentham, in both cases – and there’s another instance in this volume. That’s one of the companies your father told me to look out for – Lord Howe has an interest in it.”

She studied it, wrinkling up her nose. “I’m afraid I don’t see the significance.”

“There may not be any,” he said, “but they seemed to have owned several plots of lands that this railway company wished to buy.”

“Coincidence?”

Edward nodded. “It could be, of course. However, if there are any more instances, it might be that Lord Howe was acquiring the land cheaply in order to sell again for development.”

“But is that a crime?” she said. “Not very moral, perhaps, but would anyone go to such lengths to hide it?”

Edward gave her a sudden smile. “Ah, yes, but he would need information – so the question is not so much the purchase of the land, but how he obtained advice as to which plots of land would be profitable, or guided companies towards his property. If he was bribing someone from the council or one or more of the companies involved, that would certainly be criminal.”

“Or blackmailing them,” said Julia, understanding immediately.

“Yes, precisely. And we already know that Lord Howe is capable of that.”

She looked at the documents with more enthusiasm. “I knew there must be something!”

“It’s all speculation as yet,” he added, worried that he might be raising her hopes to no purpose. “It may be nothing. A coincidence, as you said. It’s dull work and I may be seeking too hard for something with which to justify it.”

Julia smiled at him; she seemed for the moment to have forgotten their quarrel. “Well, there is one way to test the theory, is there not? We must continue and see what else we may find!”

 

Now that they had an objective, the search became far more interesting. Edward let Julia begin sorting through some of the items in the next box, while he went back through some of the most likely previous ledgers to check them again now that he knew what he was looking for. Between them, they found four more instances and his theory was beginning to look ever more plausible.

“Miss,” said Sarah, Julia’s maid, knocking at the door and interrupting them. “Mrs Iveson thought you might have forgotten the time – I should be helping you dress for dinner.”

Julia rubbed a hand across her forehead, leaving a slight smudge from the dust of the old papers, and then shook herself, standing hastily. “Good heavens,” she said. “You are quite right – I shall come at once.” She turned back to Edward. “You should probably do the same – you’ve been working at those documents long enough.”

“Yes – I shall merely wait to put everything away safely,” he said, watching her leave, falling into a smile unbidden.

 

At dinner, the truce seemed to still be in place, at least until his mother commented on the way they had both seemed to forget everything in reading through the accounts today, when Julia stopped and gave Edward one of her brightest smiles.

“We did, and I apologise for deserting you,” she said, “but we may have found something – and I don’t believe either of us truly thought we should.”

Edward nodded. “Of course, it does mean that we shall have to return to town sooner than we thought – or at least, I shall.” He looked at Julia.

She lifted her head in surprise, putting down her fork. “Oh, but you can’t take these things to Father without me!”

“I would be perfectly capable of doing so,” he said, although he knew even as he said it, that hadn’t been what she had meant; that his taking offence would only make things difficult again, but he hadn’t been able to stifle his reaction.

Julia swallowed. “Yes, naturally. I merely meant –”

“You didn’t see why you should do nearly as much of the work and be kept out of its conclusion,” Edward said, trying to mend his mistake by lightening the tone again. “Of course. I should not dream of leaving you behind – unless you wished to stay.”

“Thank you,” she said, and he thought with relief that the truce might still be in effect.

 

Julia paused outside the study with Edward, having both risen and had breakfast without any more disagreements. “I can’t help you until later,” she said, touching his arm lightly. “I’m afraid I promised your mother I would go with her to visit your cousin Amy. And I see there is little left to go through here – will you even want me?”

“Yes, of course I shall,” he said, perhaps too swiftly, too earnestly, but he smiled to cover the moment and told her not to keep his mother waiting. 

When she returned to join him, pausing first in the hall to give Sarah some instructions, he rose to pull out her chair for her, and told her that he had found two more entries in a later volume of minutes, although he feared that the records left in the last box were likely to be of little interest.

“Well done,” said Julia, catching hold of his arm in her enthusiasm for the cause. “Well, then, shall we waste no more time?”

Edward nodded, but they did waste more time, both of them. With the end in sight and something seemingly achieved, they lapsed into conversation far more frequently. Later, laughing at something she had said, he paused to glance at his pocket watch and found that he had not looked at the documents in front of him for a good twenty minutes.

“Julia,” he said, leaning across the desk to put his hand on hers. “I should say again how sorry I am for my behaviour the other night. No matter how annoyed I was, I had no right to treat you so.”

She pulled back suddenly, her attention fixed on the ledger in front of her. “You have already begged my forgiveness. I think I would rather not talk about it.”

“But we must,” said Edward. “I asked the wrong question then – or, no, only half the question in my anger, my injured pride. Why _did_ you ask me to marry you?”

Julia raised her head again. “Oh, I see I should have been forgiven sooner had I been trying to – to poison you – anything but wish to see you live!”

“Not that,” said Edward. “I found unbearable that you should think so little of me – that is the heart of the matter. I still don’t know if I believe there was any danger, but I understand that you do, so I thank you. And you should know I haven’t the first idea what I should have done next had you not knocked on my front door that night. I had nothing left to even wish for. Now, if I can somehow amend my mistakes, I think I do.”

Julia nodded, her face angled away from him. “How pretty,” she said. “I see I shall have to forgive you if you continue in that vein.”

“Julia,” he said, reaching out for her hand for a second time. He wondered how to ask what he wanted again, if she refused to understand, or if it was unfair to ask. He took a different approach. “Do you recall the last time that we met before all of this? That evening at your parents’ house?”

He seemed to have her attention now: she watched him, merely nodding in response and didn’t remove her hand from his.

“It was nothing, I suppose,” he said, “but it was a pleasant night and I thought, sitting there, playing foolish card games with you, that it seemed suddenly – that you represented in some way everything I wanted, that I could never have. I think now that it was far simpler –” He couldn’t quite go on. He wasn’t much for fanciful words, and couldn’t bring himself to say that he thought now that she _was_ everything he had ever wanted. It was too soon, too much – and not the right way to put the matter at all.

“Yes, I remember,” said Julia. She looked around, pulling away from him, and then made an exasperated sound. “Oh, why is there nothing to throw at you? Of course I remember! You showed me such attention all evening that all my family commented on it – and I didn’t tell _them_ that you kissed me out in the hallway!”

Edward gave her a wary look. He had, taking advantage of the long-standing friendship between the two families, kissed her on the cheek as he took her hand saying good night, except that a mere moment’s ‘clumsiness’ was all it had taken to kiss her lightly on the mouth instead. He’d thought it would do no harm to steal that much in farewell. “That was only –” 

“It was _not_ ,” said Julia, “an accident. And it is entirely unfair of a gentleman to do that and then never call again. It was nothing, as you say, and so I told myself often since. I couldn’t ask you what you had meant since it would not be proper for me to call on you, nor even to write to you. Why would you imagine that you could not be an acceptable suitor?”

Edward put a hand to his head. “Oh, Lord,” he said. “Julia, I am so very sorry! I thought you wouldn’t even think of any of it again – and I seem to have let myself grow far too morbid on the subject of my father. Ironic, given how much further my reputation has fallen now, but I thought I had no right to drag anyone into that shadow with me.”

“Well, as it happens,” said Julia, “I _did_ notice, I _did_ think of it – and I very much enjoyed not only that evening, but other occasions when we were together! Ned, how _could_ you? You know how uncertain my family’s fortunes have been in the past – you know that I can manage whatever our circumstances –”

“Yes,” said Edward, and got up, moving across to the window seat, gently tugging her after him. So many people had looked at him pityingly, had spoken to him in hushed tones about his father’s death, and he’d let himself feel the shame would never leave him. “I thought I was only being sensible. If I’d known that you minded, I would have called on you the very next morning.” He had both of his hands around hers now.

Julia hung her head, hiding her face from him, despite their closeness, sitting angled opposite each other on the window seat. “But you didn’t.” She took a deep breath, but she still wouldn’t look up. It wasn’t like her. “What about her?” she asked.

“Her?” said Edward, mystified. He was almost entirely focused on Julia, watching her outlined by the light from the window: aware of the shape of her face, the slight floral scent that she wore, and the stray strands of near-golden hair against her forehead. He wanted to touch them, to brush them aside, and cause her to look at him again.

Julia obliged him then anyway, raising her head to frown at him. “ _Her_ ,” she said again, more insistently. “The woman. Mrs – Mrs Brannon! Aren’t you in love with her?”

“Marie?” said Edward, pulling back in surprise, letting Julia’s hands fall out of his. He had a sudden sick, sinking feeling – were his former indiscretions going to deny him any chance with Julia? “No – I assure you, no! She was once – very kind to me, but it was years ago, during a very bad time – after Father – after Caroline. Last week – she wanted to talk to me; that was all she said and I had no reason to mistrust her. There is nothing more between us. Please, let us not talk about that, not now.”

Julia let her gaze slide away from him, but he saw her smile. He watched the curve of her mouth and thought about kissing her again; now, here. 

“Julia,” he said. “I was asking why you married me. Not the reasons you gave me, not fear for my life. You said to me that one can always think of something. You could have run away to some distant relative – I don’t suppose Lord Howe would have followed you to your mother’s family in Berlin. You could have wished Christy onto me until I accepted the danger.”

She couldn’t seem to understand what he meant yet; what it was he was truly asking. She frowned back at him, so, before she could speak again, he took her hand once more.

“I think,” said Edward, “that if anyone else had knocked at my door then, I should have made them leave. I don’t think I should have agreed to marry them.”

“But you could see the advantages,” said Julia. “So naturally you accepted – even Christy and Father saw how well it would answer when I told them –”

“Julia, I’m asking you if you – if you asked because you _wanted_ to marry me.”

She closed her eyes, as if waiting for the roof to fall, and said, “I did. I told myself it was for all the other reasons, but I’m not sure I wasn’t merely doing what I wanted – you could hardly ignore me any longer if I married you! It was dreadful behaviour, I know –”

Edward leaned in and kissed her, still holding onto her hand. As he drew back only fractionally, he felt her breathe out in relief. “It’s not dreadful,” he murmured, sliding his fingers out of hers to touch her face. “Well, perhaps it is – certainly you must never do it again.”

She laughed and he kissed her again, moving his other hand to her waist, against the softness of the fabric of her blouse, the stiffness of the corset underneath. She caught at his arms, as if afraid he might move away, but he had no thought of doing so. He put his other hand to her cheek, his fingers moving downward, feeling the line of her jaw and touching her mouth before kissing her a third time. She closed her eyes, moving in nearer and putting her arms around him.

He forgot where they were in the heady sensation of having her so close against him, as she kissed him this time. He moved his hand downwards, to her neck, then stopping at the collar of her gauzy muslin blouse and kissed her there, undoing the buttons –

Someone knocked at the door, causing them both to start and draw back from each other; the charming illusion that they were the only two people in the world rudely broken. Julia put her hand to her mouth, struggling to hide laughter and hastily doing up her buttons, while Edward pulled back in embarrassment, but coughed and called out for the newcomer to enter. He hoped fervently that it would at least not be his mother.

He was granted that wish, since it was his mother’s maid, Harris, who came in with a tea tray. “Where do you want this, sir?”

“Oh, on the desk,” said Edward. “Thank you.”

“Yes, how kind,” Julia added with a smile. “And you needn’t wait – I shall pour.”

Harris nodded and went on her way, seemingly unaware of their odd behaviour. Julia watched her until the door was safely closed and then laughed again, leaning back against the side of the window alcove.

“I would apologise,” said Edward, “if I could do so with any honesty – but I shouldn’t – I mean to say, this is hardly the place!”

Julia got up lightly, picking up the teapot and pouring the tea into two cups. “Yes, of course. Well, I think all this staring at dusty documents is very likely to cause me a headache. If I was struck down with one now and had to go upstairs to lie down and recover, you might come to enquire as to how I am.”

“I might indeed,” said Edward in amusement, as he watched her finish making the tea. “Are you sure?”

Julia merely looked back at him and crossed to rejoin him on the window seat, sitting on his lap and putting her hands to his lapel before kissing him. He felt his pulse quicken again, weakening slightly with desire.

“Oh Lord, Julia,” he said, pushing her gently away. “Go on, then – I’ll join you in a moment.”

“What about the tea?”

He gave her a look. “Julia, I am not sitting here with you now, politely drinking tea!”

“How uncivil of you,” she said, getting to her feet but giving him a wickedly amused glance. “Whatever sort of marriage shall we have?”

Edward didn’t get a chance to answer – the door opened a second time and this time Julia’s maid Sarah came hurrying in.

“Sarah,” said Julia. “Did you not think to knock?”

She gave a bobbed curtsey by way of apology. “Oh, miss, I’m sorry, but it’s a letter for you, and I was worried it might be important.”

“Julia?” said Edward, watching her as she opened and read the note and then crumpled it in her hands. Her face, unusually, gave nothing away.

She turned back to him. “It’s Mother,” she said, as he stood to face her, taking her hands. “I’m sure it can’t possibly be too bad but Father –” She glanced up at him, giving a slight, tremulous smile. “He worries about her at the least little thing – so silly.”

Edward felt a pang of entirely selfish dismay, before he stifled it in concern for her and for Hanne Graves. “You’ll have to go at once,” he said softly. “Of course you will.”

She nodded, biting her lip in relief. “I must. If by any chance it was serious, I could never forgive myself if – if –”

“Naturally,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Julia, shall I come with you?”

She shook her head, glancing back at Sarah. “No. There’s no need – and if you stay now, you may finish that last box and then bring everything for Father tomorrow.”

It made sense, so he nodded, but it felt ridiculously like tearing something away, to let her go now.

She stretched up to kiss him on the cheek. “I shall see you tomorrow,” she said, and then gave a laugh. “Isn’t it silly that suddenly seems so long?”

“It’ll be no time at all,” lied Edward. “Go on. There’s nothing you need wait for here.”


	3. Part Three

Edward returned to London with a box full of papers and account books, which he took straight to the Graves’s house. He thought it best to deliver everything directly to his father-in-law with no further risk of anything going astray. In any case, he assumed Julia would be there and he was eager to see her again.

Harold Graves met him in his study, keen to hear about Edward’s findings. He looked at the first few pages Edward passed to him and promised to go through everything he’d brought him later on, as soon as he was able.

“Only if you can spare the time, of course,” Edward added, not wanting to seem unsympathetic to his family situation. “How is Mrs Graves? I trust she is feeling better?”

Mr Graves glanced up from the documents in mild surprise. “She is very well, thank you.”

“Oh,” said Edward, puzzled but not yet too alarmed. “I’m sorry – I thought –” He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. “Is Julia here?”

Mr Graves raised his eyebrows. “Is she not still with your mother?”

“No,” said Edward. “I must have mistaken her meaning – no doubt I shall find her at home.” He made his excuses and left as hastily as he could, in search of a cab to take him back to Charlcot Crescent. He couldn’t tell Julia’s father that he had unaccountably mislaid her in worrying circumstances unless he was sure it was true, but his heart beat faster as he silently urged the carriage onwards. Good God, he thought, he hadn’t taken Julia’s warnings about Lord Howe seriously, but now he could think of nothing else that could explain her disappearance. If that were so, he might regret that scepticism for the rest of his life.

She had her maid with her, though, he reminded himself and hoped desperately that it might yet be some misunderstanding but he failed to think of any reason she would not be at her parents’ house other than that some misfortune had befallen her. He wondered about it being a ruse to get away from him – a scheme to pay him out for ignoring her, but that wasn’t Julia’s nature. She was too generous and direct for that – she might rage or even throw something at him if he behaved badly enough, but she would never play malicious tricks on anyone. 

When he reached the house, he asked the cab driver to stay, predicting the need to return to the Graves’s. However, on entering, he heard movement above him and after closing his eyes for a moment in thankfulness, he raced up the stairs, only to find no one in any of the main rooms. He called out and then, hurried on up to the attic rooms to discover Julia’s maid, Sarah, in the act of packing her belongings into a small trunk.

“Oh, Mr Iveson,” she said, giving a start. “Beg pardon, sir. I didn’t think to see you back so soon.”

He remained in the doorway. “Where is Mrs Iveson?”

“Sorry, sir,” she said. “I didn’t know what she – well, she left you a note. You’ll find it in the bedroom.”

“Please,” he said. “Wait here.” He tore back down to his room and found the message, folded and lying on the bed. He picked it up with unsteady hands and opened it. She was sorry, it said, but she had realised that she couldn’t carry through a marriage of convenience after all. Their argument had decided her and she’d had to go. He had to stop, putting it down as he forced himself to keep his anger contained. There was an underlying part of him that nevertheless felt the words as a sharp stab, a fear that it might hold some truth, but over it all he knew this wasn’t anything Julia had written. Whoever had penned this had no idea about their last conversation, and the two of them kissing in the window seat like fools. 

Edward folded the paper and put it in his jacket pocket, the seriousness of the situation and his anger combined sharpening his mind, and he knew what he must do next. He looked upwards and then went back to the attic to find Sarah.

 

He asked Sarah to accompany him back to the Graves’s house. He’d need her to repeat his story to someone there, he told her, otherwise what might they make of his role in Julia’s disappearance?

Once there, he asked for Christy, who was thankfully home. Edward instructed Sarah to remain in the hallway and wait for him, while he went into the sitting room to find Julia’s brother.

“Whatever is it?” Christy asked. “Is something wrong? I was on my way out, so if this isn’t important –”

Edward moved nearer and handed Christy the note.

“Good God, Ned, what did you do?” said Christy, after reading it briefly.

Edward snatched it back. “Nothing! Or at least, nothing we had not put behind us. Julia received a message yesterday summoning her back here and now I return to find that was a lie, Julia is nowhere to be seen, and all I have left is this note, which I am certain she never wrote – and her maid, who cannot be telling the truth. Now, is that your sister’s hand?”

“Wait,” murmured Christy, fishing in the bureau. “She sent us a letter to say that she had arrived and Mother usually keeps these things – aha!” He pulled it out and they both leant over it, comparing the two samples.

Christy drew back, handing them both to Edward. “It’s a good likeness, but it’s not quite right, is it?”

“Or perhaps that’s only what I want to think,” said Edward, pressing his fingers to his temple. His certainty seemed to have fled now. “But – no – it cannot be true!”

Christy paced about the room. “The alternative is that Lord Howe has taken her.”

“Indeed, although it seems more than a trifle melodramatic to say so,” said Edward. “And if that is the case, surely a ransom note would be of more use than this deception?” Unless, he thought, Julia had been right all along, and Lord Howe was still a good deal more concerned with removing _him_. It seemed odd, almost immodest, to even say it, but when he raised his head, he caught a look on Christy’s face that suggested they’d both had the same thought. 

Christy patted his arm. “Let’s see the maid, then.”

 

Sarah told her story again, at least affecting to be oblivious of their suspicion: she’d received the message in good faith, but Julia on being taken to the station had pressed that note upon her and left with another gentleman – presumably he was the one who’d sent the false letter, she said.

“Well, that’s a damned lie!” said Christy, losing his temper before Edward could speak. “I don’t know what might have caused her to run off, but there is no other fellow in this case!”

Sarah shrugged. “If he was one of your father’s relatives, I wouldn’t know. Although that wasn’t how it looked to me.” She darted a glance at Edward.

“How about you tell the truth, hey?” said Christy. “Where is my sister? Your story’s full of holes, that letter’s a fake – and damn it all, I’m about as sure as I can be that she was more than half in love with Iveson here, not anybody else!”

Edward had to look down so as not to laugh at the wrong moment. “Thank you, Christy,” he murmured. “Could you not have told me _that_ at the register office?”

“It seemed unfair to Julia,” said Christy. “Would it have helped, in any case?”

Edward didn’t answer. It was pointless to say now that it might have helped considerably, although not in a way that could have prevented Julia’s vanishing, so it was irrelevant to the matter in hand. He nodded to Christy to stand back and stepped forward, facing Sarah.

“Now,” he said, “enough of this pretence. You are going to tell us the truth.”

“I am!”

He paused before speaking, surveying her. He pulled the two papers out of his pocket. “These aren’t written by the same hand. Did you do the work – or was it done by this mysterious gentleman to whom you handed Julia at the station?”

She didn’t answer, and he continued: “However, what this is now evidence – and we have further, damning evidence against Lord Howe. You cannot count on his protection or payment. Indeed, even if we’re not as clever as we think – if we act too slowly – then your position is more precarious. He’s a ruthless man, and you helped him to abduct my wife. I’m sure he’d only be too happy to see you silenced. And if he harms her, you could be an accessory to murder and you’ll swing for that if you’re not careful.”

“Ned,” said Christy, sounding shocked.

He turned back to Christy. “Is any part of that untrue?” And when Christy failed to answer, he looked at Sarah again. “What I suggest you do is that you give us more evidence – the truth – and we’ll do what we can for you with the Inspector. If we can retrieve Julia safely with your help, that will be a good deal better, don’t you think?”

 

It took a while longer to get a story out of her that satisfied them. She said first that she had been paid to hand Julia to a man and a woman at the station and knew no more, but neither Christy nor Edward could picture Julia meekly going along with such an arrangement and eventually she confessed that Lord Howe had paid her to pass on certain items of news, but he had then forced her into going further on threat of revealing her betrayal. She also explained that the man at the station had supplied her with chloroform and she had used that to render Julia unconscious. Further questioning elicited some description of the couple who had taken Julia from Sarah and on to the railway station, and that they might have named their destination as Darlington.

Both of those things clearly meant more to him than they did to Christy, Edward realised, watching the younger man fail to react. Good Lord, he added to himself, he truly had been naïve.

“I think we can be certain they took her to Lord Howe,” he said aloud, to Christy. “He has an estate not too far from Darlington – Ardale Hall. I visited him there once.”

Christy gave him a wary look. “You’re not going to run off to the north, are you? She could be making half of it up yet!”

“No,” said Edward. “First we must inform your father, and next we take Sarah to the Inspector to repeat what she has just told us. We will bring all the evidence we have – I think the Inspector will be very interested. My last encounter with him was uncomfortable, but he shared my concern over the blackmail.” He glanced at Christy. “One of us must stay with her so she doesn’t run. Would you rather tell your father or shall I?”

“Oh, you may,” Christy said. “But for heaven’s sake don’t show him that note without warning like you did me. If he didn’t knock you down, you’d at least be deafened for a week!”

 

The Inspector Edward noticed with annoyance, had looked amused on seeing Edward return, as if he counted on him to be a source of infallible entertainment to the Metropolitan Police, but that expression had vanished as he listened to their story. He had promised to send a telegraph to the proper authorities in County Durham and to set enquiries in motion to see if anyone had witnessed Julia being taken to Ardale Hall. He promised also to call on Mr Graves to view the papers Edward had found and to let Edward know at once if there was any news of Julia.

“The thing is,” said Christy, as they left the station, “that’s all very well, but it doesn’t get Julia back, does it?”

Edward leant against the wall and gave Christy a speculative look. “You know you said I shouldn’t dash off to the north?”

“And I still think –”

“Well, I can’t,” said Edward. “I have more yet to do here – but you can!”

“Look, don’t think I don’t sympathise,” said Christy. “She’s my sister – and I’d go haring up there without a second thought if we had proof. But we don’t yet and I can’t have Julia in trouble elsewhere and me at the other end of the country. Father will do what he can, of course, and I’m sure you mean well – but let’s be honest, Ned, this odd marriage of yours is barely –”

“Christy,” said Edward, “we must make use of the only lead we have. We want to put a stop to Lord Howe, but Julia must be our priority. And naturally you are right – my knowledge of Julia is small as yet besides yours, but as it happens, if I’m honest – I’m more than half in love with her, too.”

Christy gave a short laugh and a nod. “And I’m not all that surprised to hear it. Very well, Ned.”

“Please, go now – get the first train you can, even a night train, and _try_ , won’t you?”

Christy gave a nod and an awkward pat of Edward’s arm before taking his leave.

 

Having set everything in motion he could for that day, Edward returned home. His house had never seemed so empty and lacking in life as it did in this evening’s gloom. It was nonsensical, he thought, because Julia had only been here for that one night, but nevertheless her absence was marked and he looked around the place with disfavour. 

The collapse of Father’s business and what had happened after had been an unhappy time, but Edward had been lucky in that both sets of grandparents had left money and property settled on Edward and his mother. The house in Charlcot Crescent was one such. Until this year, Edward had rented it out and lived in smaller lodgings, making use of the income, but he had moved back in temporarily between tenants. Married to Julia, he supposed that arrangement would become permanent – if he could only retrieve her. He liked the house very well, but all he could think now was how drab it looked, how silent it was and how so many articles were in need of renovation or repair, and crying out for his attention.

He was glad when it was at last a reasonable hour to retire and took himself off to bed to lie there – alone – and worry about Julia. He thought, or he desperately hoped, that Lord Howe would not have harmed her. It seemed as if he might have his sights set on neutralising both Edward and any threat of the documents surfacing and for that he must surely need Julia alive. However, that was only speculation, and also while it might account for Lord Howe, it did not account for Julia or what she might do. Edward couldn’t stop thinking about Julia – on guard in his room – at the breakfast table declaring that there was always _something_ one could do. What might she try now – and what might Lord Howe do in response?

He thought then that perhaps they were all wrong; perhaps she was already lying dead somewhere and he had to sit up again, sick at the idea and unable to push it from his head as he had in daylight.

He knew what he must do in the morning and tried to focus on that, but now that he was left here in darkness and inaction, it was impossible not to think about Julia. If it wasn’t fear for her safety, then his unwise mind strayed back to that moment in the window seat, having her in his arms, kissing her; cursing himself now for letting her go. He thought, too, that she’d even shared his bed and all he’d done was argue with her. He was a fool and a wretch and he deserved any number of cruel fates, but she didn’t. If they didn’t find her, if he lost her now, he thought wearily, he should lose his mind, he was sure of it. After all, he had already lost his heart.

 

In the end, Edward slept more soundly than he felt he ought, even if he had at the last woken from a vague nightmare involving Julia and Lord Howe. He washed and dressed himself and then realised with annoyance that he had made no provision for breakfast and still had no daily help or housekeeper. He went instead to the Graves’s in hope of both news and sustenance.

They supplied him with breakfast without comment, but no one had had any word from the Inspector, Christy, or even Lord Howe, and while Mr Graves reported grimly that he had found further evidence in Edward’s father’s papers to pass to the Inspector, that was all he could offer.

Edward knew what he had to do this morning, and set off for a less salubrious corner of town, pulling a note out of his pocket. He had retrieved it yesterday and found further evidence of his own blindness and naivety. He’d had a sudden thought that Marie had included her direction on her note and when he’d found it again, that had proved to be so.

Of course, he hadn’t thought of it before their meeting, but he should have seen it sooner than this. When one is about to meet a gentleman to commit a crime, including one’s direction on an incriminating piece of evidence isn’t wise. However, in his short-lived acquaintance with Marie, she’d sent him other messages with their true meaning shown by marks in the margins, indicating key words and phrases. He could see now that the address was marked, as were several words, which he could easily put together now as meaning that he should have visited her at that address, whereupon she would no doubt have warned him. 

He held onto his hat as he made his way down a narrower street, heading into the edges of Seven Dials and wondered where he would be now if he had done so, if he had not fallen into the trap. Julia wouldn’t have proposed to him, he thought, but she wouldn’t have been abducted, either. She would probably be trying to find another way to escape marrying Lord Howe and he would still be a clueless fool.

He found his way to the address without any trouble – they were only on the edges of the worst areas here, not yet in the heart of the Rookeries – and, after speaking to an alarmingly fierce landlady, made his way up to the rented room and knocked on the door. 

A dark-haired woman opened it slowly and drew in a breath when she saw him.

“Marie,” said Edward, hastening forward, so that she couldn’t shut him out. “Please. I must speak to you.”

 

After last week, Edward had been sure he would never see Marie again – that certainly he would never seek her out. And here he was, doing precisely that. If it would help bring down Lord Howe and return Julia, it was unavoidable and yet he hung back from starting, because he effectively wanted to ask Marie to hand herself over to the Law and he had no right to demand that of anyone.

“Edward,” she said. “I can’t think of any reason you should be here – and I can think of a dozen reasons why you shouldn’t, so please say whatever it is you came to say and go!”

He shook his head. “Is John here?”

“No,” she said. “He’s . . . away. Have you come to shout? It won’t help either of us.”

Edward held up a hand. “Marie. Please listen. This is about Lord Howe. I understand finally. Now, I’m determined to stop him – and I know you can help me.”

“I warned you years ago,” she said, a dark spark in her eyes, “and I made another attempt last week. What more do you want?”

He put a hand to his head, still finding it more awkward than he had anticipated. “Well, I should like my wife back. Would you happen to know anything about that?”

“Your wife?” said Marie, staring at him as if he’d grown antlers. “You weren’t even engaged last week! Or was that a lie?”

“It was true then,” said Edward, unable to bite back amusement, “but it’s surprising how rapidly these things can change. Marie, I swear I’m not lying! After the scandal broke last week –”

Marie shook her head. “Yes, and that was your fault. You went to the police! Why did you not keep quiet? Lord Howe would have been sure he had you in his pocket and thought no more about you. You should have kept him oblivious of your suspicions and acted against him in secret.”

“If I’d had the first idea it was Lord Howe,” said Edward, “perhaps I might have tried something of the kind, but I didn’t. Besides, that is hardly the point. He must be stopped, and even if I’d made things easier for myself, it wouldn’t have helped Julia. Julia Graves,” he added, realising that he wasn’t being entirely coherent. “He wanted to marry her and was determined to do so. We, however, realised we could solve our respective difficulties by marrying each other, so we did.”

Marie said nothing, but she had become very still.

“It _was_ you, wasn’t it?” Edward said, watching her. “When Julia’s maid told us what she’d done – how she’d handed Julia over to a man and a woman, I thought it sounded remarkably like you and Mr Brannon. I hope you’re not too fatigued from your journey? You can hardly have been returned long.”

She closed her eyes. “You must hate me.”

“I don’t think so,” Edward said. “Although, given everything, I would rather have not seen you again – I’m sure you feel the same. But, despite everything, your being with Julia is the only reassuring note I’ve found in the business.”

“I don’t suppose she would agree with you,” said Marie. “Or were you merely an expedience to her?”

It wasn’t a malicious question, but it stung anyhow. “No,” he said, the hurt bleeding into his voice. “No. I’m sure it wasn’t so. We – we had a history between us. Was she unharmed, Marie? Was she alive when you left?”

She nodded.

Edward leant forward. “You must see what I need from you. The maid will recognise you both – Brannon can finally be put away, and if the Inspector knows where Julia is, he can have people go in to rescue her.”

“And I shall be locked away, too,” said Marie. “Trying to weep in the box and appeal to one of your juries of disapproving gentlemen, no doubt. But I’m sure that thought isn’t troubling you.”

Edward rubbed his head. “If you help us, I’m sure the Inspector won’t arrest you. I’ll tell him you were forced into it, too.”

“That isn’t terribly reassuring,” said Marie, but she picked up her coat and hat and gestured for him to lead the way out.

“What else can I do?” said Edward. “Lord Howe has Julia – and is that where Brannon is, too? That is _not_ a pleasant notion, Marie.”

She nodded. “I know, and it’s one I haven’t been able to stop thinking of since I returned. Nobody deserves that. And now, since you’re here – since it’s you in the middle of it all – it seems I must oblige and come with you to your police inspector. There is something else I had better tell him!”

“Oh?” said Edward, holding the door for her. 

She glanced back at him as she passed out onto the narrow landing. “The lady I escorted north the other day – I heard that Lord Howe wants to kill her husband. And since that’s you, I don’t seem to have much choice but to help – and to hell with the consequences, I suppose.”

 

Edward had intended, after his encounter with Marie and a return home to change, to spend what was left of the afternoon and evening at the Graves’s, waiting for any news. He was tempted by the thought of taking the train north himself, but he didn’t want to risk crossing paths with Christy or Julia. However, those vague plans were set aside when the Inspector cornered him after interviewing Marie. He first assured him that he had no intention of arresting her as yet, not when she was being so helpful.

“Mr Iveson,” he said, suddenly sounding hesitant. “It occurs to me that if this Lord Howe wants to be rid of you and doesn’t know of our current activities, I might have a proposition to put to you.”

Since last time Edward had agreed to anyone’s proposition, he’d ended up married the following morning, he turned warily and hoped the Inspector’s ideas weren’t as drastic as Julia’s.

And so it was he found himself at home in Charlcot Terrace, waiting for a murderer to call. He felt ridiculous. He had at last had to accept the fact that Lord Howe was engaged in criminal activities and that he meant Edward no good, but he still couldn’t imagine him creeping into the house to murder him. He’d send someone else even if he should decide to do so. Edward supposed that he should be careful when abroad, but not when safe at home.

Still, the Inspector had thought it worth trying, and while Edward was now sitting in his study with a book and a brandy he had poured but hesitated to drink, there was a constable sitting much less comfortably in the box-room that adjoined the study. There was also a messenger boy positioned in the street to run for assistance from the station should anyone call. It was unlikely to do the police any good, but Edward couldn’t refuse to do anything they felt might help Julia.

He was startled, however, when there was a knock at the door, but leapt up, sure it must be news of Julia and hurried down the stairs to answer it.

“Don’t you have a servant?” said Lord Howe, standing on the doorstep. Then he gave Edward an amused look. “Or did they give notice? I suppose one could hardly blame them in the circumstances.”

 

Edward wondered what the etiquette was on receiving someone who had very likely come to kill him. In lieu of any guidelines, he invited Lord Howe in, leading him up to the study and offering him a drink. Given all that he’d learnt about Lord Howe since they’d last met in his office, Edward found himself startled to see the man looking the same as ever. White-haired, trim, polite and impeccably smart; it felt the height of folly to cast him as the villain of this melodrama.

“No, no,” murmured Lord Howe. “I don’t think you are ignorant of the truth of this situation, are you? I have your wife. I imagine you want to know what I’d like in exchange for her?”

Edward remained standing beside his desk and watched the older man. “And what is that?”

“Nothing from you, I’m afraid,” said Lord Howe. “And do excuse me,” he added, pulling out a pistol, “but I will need this.”

Despite everybody’s warnings and his own alarm on finding Lord Howe at the door, Edward still felt uppermost the unreality of it all: Lord Howe could not be here, pointing a firearm at him in much the same dispassionate, business-like manner that he went about everything. And yet it was true, so he must not lose his wits in the shock. It also occurred to Edward at almost the same moment that the constable could not possibly get in here before Lord Howe fired. That, decided Edward, was a serious flaw in the Inspector’s plan and if he managed to survive, he would have to have words with him about it.

“Now,” said Lord Howe, “sit down, Iveson. I gather you’ve been unearthing things from your father’s records. I also see that I sadly overestimated you and would have been better leaving you in peace, but it’s so easy to be wise after the fact, isn’t it?”

Edward curled his fingers into a fist and released them again. “What do you want?”

“I’d like that evidence,” said Lord Howe. “Care to tell me where it is?”

Edward stared back at him. “It’s already with Mr Graves and an obliging police inspector. You’re too late.”

“Let me explain,” said Lord Howe. “I’ve made a needless mess of the situation, but that can still be fairly swiftly corrected. Your wife, distressed by your behaviour, has run to me for protection. We all know what a scandalous figure you are, do we not? Sadly, the shame and threat of further ruin was too much for you and you die here, after which, while I hold Mrs Iveson, Graves will do what I ask and retract any complaint. I will maintain that hold on him by marrying his daughter.”

Edward could feel his heartbeat thudding in his ears, both afraid and still feeling that none of this could be real. “Why? Why not ask us to hand over what we have in return for Julia? We would, you know.”

“Yes,” said Lord Howe, “and once I’d returned her, you would no doubt burrow around and find council minutes or someone else willing to talk. I may have made some missteps here, but I’m not a fool. And if I did not return Julia, my threats would soon cease to have much meaning. Besides, I know your marriage was little more than a masquerade. I can rely on Graves to put his daughter first. You – I am not so sure.”

Edward found his mouth was dry. “You’re going to shoot me?” He tensed. He might have nothing to lose if so, preparing himself to rush Lord Howe for the weapon.

“Possibly, although I had a kinder method in mind,” said Lord Howe. “First you’re going to do as I say – and don’t do anything rash. You will not leave here alive, but believe me when I say those connected to you will suffer if you cause me difficulty – Julia – your mother – the rest of your family and hers.”

Edward took a deep breath, nodding. Not so much because he accepted his threats, but because the longer he kept Lord Howe here talking, the more chance it gave the unseen constable to act.

“Good,” said Lord Howe. “Keep sitting there.” He leant forward and poured something into Edward’s glass. “Drink that, if you please.” When Edward hesitated, he sighed. “Consider it a mercy for you and a convenience for me. If you are awkward, I _will_ shoot you, but this way I have more leisure to retrieve those papers and you are saved some pain – and it will be less trouble for someone to clean up afterwards, don’t you think?”

Edward gazed at the glass in the lamplight. “I’ve told you where the documents are.”

“You’ll have made copies, no doubt,” said Lord Howe. “Who would not?”

 _You overestimate me again_ , thought Edward, but he said nothing. He hesitated to effectively connive at his own murder – a faked suicide that was perhaps for Lord Howe, a second such – but the obvious advantage for a man with an ally in hiding was too great to overlook. At least, he thought, the constable had better still be there – he had better not have fallen asleep. He reached out a hand and took the glass, but didn’t raise it to his lips. 

“If you don’t,” said Lord Howe, “I shall have to shoot you now and deal with the inconvenience.”

Edward mustered both his courage and his sense of humour. “Well, we can’t have that,” he said, and took his first sip. It would have been good to find some way to pretend, but that was impossible with Lord Howe standing over him. He drank the rest as slowly as he dared, thought nevertheless coughing slightly at his undue haste with the brandy. It also tasted distinctly unpleasant at the edges, although possibly that was merely his imagination.

“Good,” said Lord Howe. “Next, I would like you to find a sheet of paper and a pen and write a note for me.”

“A note?” said Edward blankly, although he understood before the words were out of his mouth. It was only small comfort that there was a witness to this: he had hoped to live to see Lord Howe arrested, not have it occur over his dead body.

“I can dictate if need be,” said Lord Howe. “Go on. Pen. Paper. If there’s anything you wish to say, you have the opportunity.”

Edward obeyed, finding his hands unsteady as he pulled out a clean sheet of paper and reached for the nearest pen. He paused before using the inkwell. “And did you give my father that same chance?”

“Oh,” said Lord Howe. “Oh, you want to know about that, do you?”

Edward wasn’t sure he did. In theory, it ought to improve things; that his father hadn’t abandoned them; that he shouldn’t have suffered the condemnation of the Church, but in the end, he was still dead. It didn’t feel much better to imagine that he might have been pushed into the water instead of jumping or falling.

“Write something,” Lord Howe said, “and maybe I shall tell you.”

He should try to wrest the gun from him, Edward thought, with a sudden rush of almost feverish energy. He _should_ – he could do it, he knew he could –

“Iveson,” said Lord Howe, breaking into his thoughts, still holding the gun to his head. “Write.”

Edward stared down at the paper, clutching the pen too hard in his hand, ink on his fingers. Play along, play along, he reminded himself. Once the drug started to take effect and Lord Howe felt himself safe to search, the constable would come to his aid. Suddenly, that idea felt a good deal more reassuring than it ought. Of course, together they would overcome Lord Howe; it was the most natural thing in the world that they should. He put down his pen and laughed at the thought.

“ _Iveson_.”

He shook his head, slightly sobered by finding the gun in his face again. He reached for the pen, in his mind drafting the most elegant, moving farewell that could be imagined: he was almost sorry it wouldn’t be real. But once he had it in his hand, he found he didn’t even know to whom to address it. Even knowing that it should never be delivered, he could not write Julia’s name there, or his mother’s. He stopped and wrote, with unexpected effort: _To whom it may concern._

“Come now,” said Lord Howe. “It’s not that difficult. ‘This new shame and scandal is too much to bear _etcetera, etcetera_.’”

Edward formed the letters carefully, although he found himself beginning to lose track of the whole sentences too easily, falling back on Lord Howe’s suggestions as he watched him from one side, still with the pistol trained on him. He had felt light-headed enough at the situation; now he was already growing tired, enough to want to push aside the letter and do something else, but Lord Howe kept cutting into his increasingly sluggish thoughts, reminding him of the task.

Eventually, he leant forward and nodded, taking the pen from Edward’s hands and replacing it in the inkwell. “And now – I told you it was a mercy. Don’t fight it.”

Edward laid his heavy head down on the desk, although trying to remain alert, thinking about taking any chance that came to disarm Lord Howe, thinking about Julia . . . Oh, Lord, he thought instead, the man was going to kill him. He’d get the police all the evidence they needed to convict the villain, but he was going to die for it. He panicked and tried to sit up, but Lord Howe put a hand on his shoulder, firmly keeping from rising. Edward breathed out, beginning to swim in and out of consciousness. He was going to die: best to do as Lord Howe said and know nothing of it.

But, he thought, lead-weighted eyelids closing, what was it Julia had said? There’s always something one can do. And as Lord Howe lifted his hand from his shoulder, moving away, Edward took the one further course of action he could and let himself fall out of the chair, onto the rug – out of the line of fire in the fight he could only hope was going to happen.

He fought to hold onto consciousness, telling himself under his breath that this was a matter of life or death. He managed to keep hold of himself for long enough to hear movements and shouts; the door opening and then banging back again; footsteps and thunder, but just as he thought to try and pull himself up to help, he heard Julia’s voice, felt her sit down beside him and put her arms around him. It was an unfair move of the dream, he thought dimly, losing the will to do anything but let it take him, if she was there.

 

What followed remained confused in his mind: he fastened onto his hallucination of Julia as the only constant, the only thing that meant anything to him. He was sure when they roused him again that she was there; she had her hand to his face. Someone forced salt water down him, so the next moments that were at all clear weren’t ones he wished to remember. The constable had walked him about in the garden until the doctor arrived, keeping him awake, but through it all his vision of Julia remained until he understood that she wasn’t a hallucination – she was truly here. Goodness only knew what hour of the clock it was by that point and he had long since gone past the point of being able to carry on a sensible conversation. He took her hand, as she sat with him in the bedroom while the doctor examined him, but there was no chance to do or say more.

 

When Edward finally woke, it seemed to be late, judging by the sunlight streaming in between the cracks in the curtains. He leant back against the pillows and half drifted off again, unwilling yet to face the day. He was roused more thoroughly only a few minutes later when he heard Julia’s voice again, this time right next to him.

“Edward?” she said. “Are you awake? I brought you some tea.”

He opened his eyes cautiously, afraid it might be a dream; one that would vanish as soon as he woke fully. She was there, however, already dressed and unharmed. “Julia,” he said.

“Tea?” she offered again, thrusting the cup in front of his nose.

He pulled himself up into a sitting position and took it from her with a slight frown, not yet sure he wanted anything. “But there can’t be any milk in the house,” he said, and then thought how stupid he must sound.

“Oh, Meg and I have dealt with that,” she said. “Please, do drink it. I would have left you as long as you wished, but the Inspector will be here again in less than an hour to take our statements.”

Edward refrained from asking who on earth Meg was, and put the tea down on the bedside cabinet, gripping her wrist before she could rise. “Julia. Are you unhurt? How are you here? I thought last night you were a dream.”

“No, I’m here,” she said, and leant in to kiss his forehead with her hands to his face, undeniably real, her fingers cool against his skin. “As to how, well, I shall have to tell the Inspector again presently, so you may as well learn then.”

He refused to release her. “Julia, please. Christy found you, I suppose?” He frowned again, his thoughts still slowed by sleep, trying to work out if there had been enough time.

“No, no,” she said. “I escaped. Well, with Meg’s help. And you must admit that it’s as well I didn’t wait for you to come and rescue me, since all you did was sit around and let people try to kill you.”

He let go of her and drank the tea. “It wasn’t my idea – it was the Inspector’s. I didn’t think that Lord Howe would oblige him by putting in an appearance. Besides, there was a constable waiting to help.”

“So nothing could possibly go wrong?” she said, getting to her feet. “I don’t know if I can forgive you. When we arrived on the train, I went straight to Father’s, hoping to see you there too. What I found instead was the Inspector, talking to my Father and when I naturally said that I must come back here to see you, he followed me and told me I must not. Of course, I would not be kept away without reason – and when he told me why –”

“You still could not be kept away,” said Edward and gave her a smile. “Thank you.”

She swallowed. “I think I hate you.”

“You don’t,” said Edward, already feeling a good deal happier than he had done since she’d disappeared. “To hate someone is to wish them dead – according to scripture. And since you clearly don’t wish me dead, I think you must like me at least a little.”

“True, I admit,” said Julia. “However, I _am_ highly tempted to tip the rest of the tea over your head, so I had best go downstairs again before the urge overcomes me.”

 

When he made his way downstairs, Julia introduced him to Meg, who turned out to be a bright-faced young maidservant, and they provided him with what was a very belated breakfast, given that it was already gone two o’clock in the afternoon. Edward thanked them and then failed to think of anything else to say. He wanted to ask Julia again how she was, but she kept bustling about, helping Meg to clear away dishes and then telling him that his kitchen was sadly in need of much work, and that Meg thought so, too.

“Miss,” said Meg in alarm, coming in at that moment to refill the teapot.

“And the wallpaper in here,” said Julia. “And the curtains. Did you not notice how badly they had faded?”

Edward opened his mouth to reply, but didn’t get the chance.

“The ones in the bedroom are even worse. I shall have to see to it as soon as possible,” she said, and then rose from the table. “And the study,” she said, suddenly, crossing to the door and hesitating there, “the study is at least not in such a mess as it was.”

Edward rose hastily and belatedly as Julia slipped out of the room, and then looked at his unknown new maid. “Meg,” he said carefully, “last night – was Lord Howe killed? Here?”

She nodded.

“Thank you,” he said again. 

 

“Julia,” Edward said, catching her again in the drawing room, her head bent over a list she was writing in pencil.

“Ssh,” she said without looking up. “Don’t interrupt me – I’m trying to make a list of all the things we need most urgently for Meg when she goes out.”

He leant against the wall. “Julia –”

“Oh,” she said, as they both heard a knock at the door. “That must be the Inspector!”

 

The session with the Inspector that followed was enlightening – the Inspector explained what had happened last night and Julia recounted her experience of being abducted – but also intensely frustrating. Edward didn’t want to hear this as related officially to a policeman; he wanted to talk to Julia and find out how she was after such an ordeal. Still, at least he knew now that that on finding herself a prisoner at Ardale Hall, she had managed to enlist Meg’s help and they had escaped in the early hours of the morning, walking until they came to a farm owned by friends of Meg’s, who had then taken them into Darlington in a trap to catch the train from the station, arriving back in London yesterday evening.

The Inspector had also apologised to Edward about the constable’s slowness in coming to his rescue, although Edward wasn’t entirely sure what else the man could have done. He had got into the study moments before the Inspector joined him and in the struggle, Lord Howe had been shot, the gun being turned back against him. 

“Nasty business,” the Inspector had added, and Edward, watching Julia, saw that she had lost colour. He wished he was sitting next to her, so that he could discreetly hold her hand. Even hearing the account of what had happened didn’t awaken any memories in him. The muddled collection of sound and movement that he remembered, the vibration of footsteps on the floorboards, and that sound like thunder now made a little more sense, but no more. Lord Howe had been right about his chosen method of killing him being a mercy, thought Edward, even if not in the way he’d intended. Now he had no unwelcome and grim memories, but for Julia, he thought in dismay, that was not so.

 

Edward would have tried again to pin her down after the Inspector had left, but following that, Christy arrived, considerably annoyed with Edward for sending him needlessly to Darlington, but also concerned by what he had heard from his parents and with an invitation to dine from them.

Edward considered refusing, so that he could talk to Julia, but when she responded by asking if he was well enough, he immediately and contrarily insisted that of course he was, and, after that, remembered with some shame that he could hardly keep her from her family at such a time. 

By the time they returned, he found he was exhausted and Julia not much less so. Edward wondered guiltily how much sleep she had had the night before. He suspected it might have been very little and that on top of a tiring journey and her ordeal in the north. Any further conversation between them, no matter how much needed, must wait until the morrow.

 

To his annoyance, when Edward woke the next morning, Julia had already risen again, and by the time he had washed and dressed and eaten breakfast, Julia had gone upstairs, no doubt doing something to the curtains, as she had threatened yesterday. He would have sought her out, but Harold Graves arrived to have a talk with him, following on from some conversation they’d had last night after dinner about Lord Howe and this business. He told Edward that he had sent for the Inspector and had a word with him, too.

“Of course,” Mr Graves added, “it’s a little academic now that he’s gone, but I suppose that’s all for the best.”

Edward thought again of what must have happened in the study the other night again and wasn’t so sure that he agreed.

 

Over luncheon, however, Edward asked Julia about her imprisonment and escape. She refused to talk about the journey there, merely saying with a shiver that she recalled very little of it. Once she had been taken to the house, however, she had been deprived of her outer clothes – dress, shoes, coat, hat – so that she could not escape, and the rest of the household informed that she was ill.

“Lord Howe told me not to worry,” Julia said, the colour rising in her cheeks as she grew angry again at the memory. “He apologised for the inconvenience and told me that if I did as he said, I should not want for anything and there would be no scandal. And,” she added, as if it were the final straw, “that I wouldn’t have to live with my foolish mistake in marrying you. I pretended to agree with everything he said, and he simply believed me! So, that made me think, if he had so little regard for me, did he ever trouble himself over the females in his own household? I watched the servants who came to bring me food closely and decided to try Meg. I had to wait until she came back – and then I simply threw myself on her mercy.”

Edward instinctively looked up at Meg, who also coloured.

“And as you see,” said Julia, “that possibility didn’t seem to occur to him. Meg had to do everything – she was very brave, you know. She stole me some clothes –”

“Please, miss,” said Meg, clearing up the dishes. “Don’t. I wouldn’t want to be arrested.”

Julia said, “I’m sorry, Meg. I told my father to see about returning the clothes, so you shan’t be. I promised she could stay with us,” she said to Edward in an undertone when Meg left the room again. “Because of course, she would have lost her post, so it was much better all round that she should come with me and work for us instead. You don’t mind, do you?”

“I’m very much in favour of having a maid who would help you rather than one who’d abduct you,” said Edward. “And it is your business how you wish to run the household, you know.”

Julia put her hand over his briefly. “It wasn’t so dreadful,” she said, as if reassuring him. “The worst part was creeping out of the house, and the grounds. Meg had taken a spare key to the servant’s entrance, but my heart was in my mouth the whole time – and it was so dark! But we stopped for a while until it got lighter and things went much more smoothly once we reached the farm. But as you can imagine, I didn’t feel in the least happy until we finally arrived in London. And then,” she said, glaring at him again as she pulled her chair back and rose from the table, “what did we find but that you had been paying far too much attention to that incompetent police inspector!”

“I don’t think that’s quite fair,” said Edward, rising hastily himself, but stopping as Julia swept out of the room and Meg bustled back into it. He made himself turn his attention to her rather than Julia for a few moments. “Allow me to thank you once again, Miss –?”

“Snaith,” said Meg. “And there’s no need, sir. I don’t want to work any place where there’s all sorts of criminal goings-on like that.”

Edward smiled. “I’m sure. Nevertheless, I’m grateful and once we’ve caught our breath again, I shall see about rewarding you in some way.”

“Sir –”

He said, “Now, don’t say you wouldn’t want it and don’t say you didn’t earn it. Besides, whatever I may or may not do, Mr Graves won’t be dissuaded from such a course.” Then he paused, trying to think how to put the next part, because it was something that didn’t seem to have occurred to Julia, but he also didn’t want to offend Meg. A maid of all work in a small household was hardly the same thing as a position in a grand house and she might not wish to remain. “You’re very welcome here – but you mustn’t feel obliged to stay, you know. It’s poor thanks for all you’ve done. There has been some scandal surrounding me, too, and what with Lord Howe being killed here and Julia’s disappearance, that won’t go away overnight. If you would prefer to go elsewhere, we should be happy to provide letters of reference. Besides,” he added with a smile, “Julia can be overwhelming when she has her mind set on something, I know.”

Meg bobbed a curtsey. “Thank you, sir, but I’m happy to stay with Mrs Iveson for now, as long as you’re agreeable.”

“Of course,” he said and gave a wry smile. “I can understand that.”

 

Edward hunted Julia down again, this time cornering her in the spare bedroom, dusting things that he was fairly sure didn’t need dusting. Mrs Crosbie had been fairly thorough before she’d walked out.

“Julia,” he said, walking over to her, determined not to put off again. He removed the duster from her hand gently, leaning over the chest of drawers. “Please. You have my deepest apologies for what took place the other night. I promise you I did everything I could think of to stop Lord Howe and bring you back first. And, as I said, I simply didn’t believe there would be any danger in agreeing to the Inspector’s suggestion.”

She wouldn’t lift her head and look at him. “I was waiting outside with Meg after the Inspector went in – and we heard the pistol being fired. I thought it must have been you who had been killed. Even when I got to the room I – I wasn’t sure.” She looked up then, putting a hand to her face, as if to indicate the damage to Lord Howe’s that had prevented her immediately seeing which one of them it was. “And when I did see you – you were lying there –”

He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in against him, kissing her head. She didn’t resist, but she stiffened slightly.

“D-don’t,” she said. “I shall cry. It’s much better if I keep busy and don’t think of it – any of it! You, that moment in the carriage with Sarah – you read about such things in novels, but when it happened, it was horrid and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

Edward kissed her again, lightly. “Well, cry, then,” he said. “I don’t mind, and I _do_ mind all this feverish domestic activity.” He recalled, too, the time after his father had died and there had been nearly a week of feeling white and strained before he could find it in him to weep. “You’re entitled to more than a few tears after the past few days.”

She gave a slight laugh, relaxing against him, pressing her head against his chest. “More than a few tears?”

“Oh, I should say that you would be entirely justified in a fainting fit, possibly even full-blown hysterics, if you wished.”

She did cry then, alternately hanging onto him and half-heartedly pummelling him with her fists. “I thought you were _dead_!”

“I wasn’t too sure about you, either,” he murmured, ushering her over to the bed, sitting down with her and passing her a handkerchief, keeping one arm around her all the while. He felt a shiver go through him as he registered the truth of his words. Her being here and alive was a miracle – and he had been sure the other night that Lord Howe was going to kill him. It had been far too near a thing for anybody’s comfort.

“And,” she said, through her tears, “all the blood –”

He put both arms around her again. “I’m a beast, I know. Julia, nothing like that will ever happen to us again, I promise.”

“How can you be so sure?” she said, drawing back and wiping her eyes, though she couldn’t yet keep the tears from coming.

“I’ve worked out what we need to do, you see,” he told her. “You were quite right all along – we need to keep in each other’s company as much as possible and we’ll stay safe.”

She laughed again, shakily, and then looked away from him to wipe her eyes and blow her nose. Edward leant forward and kissed her cheek, damp and heated from her tears and then caught at her hand. 

“Julia,” he said, kissing her again; full on the mouth this time, and then pulling back to look at her with a smile. “If you’d rather not think about things, I may have an alternative distraction.”

She hesitated, looking back at him for a long moment, and he cursed himself for being insensitive and selfish yet again. Then she gave a sudden, glorious smile and caught hold of him tightly, her arms around his neck, and kissed him with enough enthusiasm to rob him of breath and any further thought of apology.

“I was only thinking,” she said, breathlessly, “that perhaps it was a bit shocking of us – in the middle of the afternoon with so many things to be done –”

Edward kissed her neck and worked on pulling the comb out of her hair so that it fell free, while she hastily rescued the pins that scattered with it, and then removed the brooch that fastened her collar before he could pull and tear the lace. 

“You had no such scruples at my mother’s house, I notice,” he said, untying and removing her apron, kissing her on the temple after he’d pulled it over her head. “Besides, since my reputation is irretrievably damaged so must yours be now you’ve seen fit to marry me – we might as well try and live down to people’s expectations.”

“It _is_ ridiculous to be the scandal of the town and not yet have even managed to consummate our marriage,” agreed Julia as she concentrated on undoing his necktie. “Everyone would laugh if they knew. We couldn’t have that.”

“Indeed,” said Edward with a quick smile, catching at her hand, and pulling her in against him more closely. She wasn’t as steady as perhaps she might have hoped to appear and he knew he wasn’t. He finally had Julia Graves in his arms and he was both elated and irrationally terrified that something else would tear them away from each other at any minute. Just for the moment, he closed his eyes and rested his head against her, feeling the reality of her, breathing her in.

She ran her hand through his hair and then said in his ear, “Ned, this is the spare room! Perhaps we should –?”

He laughed, falling back on the bed, pulling her down with him. “Don’t be silly, love – had you forgotten how scandalous we are already? Be thankful it’s not the drawing room.”

**Author's Note:**

> The original summary was _138) In the Flesh- Portia Da Costa_ :
> 
> _Victorian society already believes he’s a scarlet man. Why not become one? Edward’s reputation is in tatters. With scandalous photographs of him being scrutinized by the ton and his brother running them into debt, Edward’s only hope – a respectable marriage – is dashed. Then powerful, wealthy Julia offers an indecent proposal: for one month of hedonistic servitude she’ll pay off his brother’s debts. But nothing can prepare Edward for the worst, for discovering that he enjoys his degradation and delights in the dark fantasies that Julia has awakened. In fact, he’s fast becoming addicted to a life, and a woman, who can never wholly be his…_


End file.
